HOVSEtf 


CARIBOO 


other 
tales 

from) 

RCADIA 


The  House  of  Cariboo 


AND  OTHER 


Tales  from  (Arcadia, 


BY 


A  PAUL  GARDINER. 


Author  of  Vacation  Incidents/'  "The  Fifth 
A-venue  Social  Trust/'  etc. 


Illustrated  by  Robert  A.  Graef. 


A.  P.  Gardiner,   Publisher,  Ne\v  York. 
1000. 


COPYRIGHT,  1900,  BY 
A.  P.  GARDINER. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 
THE  ARCHIPELAGO, n 

ALONG  THE  FRONT, 16 

THE  HOUSE  OF  CARIBOO. 

CHAP.      I.     THE  CAMERONS  AT  THE  FRONT,  31 

CHAP.     II.     BARBARA  AND  DAN  AT  HOME,         -  43 

CHAP.   III.     ON  THE  WAY  TO  THE  GOLD  FIELDS,  46 

CHAP.    IV.     INTO  THE  CARIBOO  MOUNTAINS,    -  50 

CHAP.     V.     AT  THE  FOUR  CORNERS,   -        -  54 

CHAP.    VI.     DONALD  VISITS  THE  GOSSIP  CLUB,  63 

CHAP.  VII.     IN  THE  MINING  CAMP,      -        -  72 

CHAP.  VIII  LECLARE'S  STORY:  THE  INITIALED 

TREE,  -  -  -  -  -  -  80 

CHAP.  IX.  LECLARE'S  STORY:  THE  CHRIST 

MAS  TREE,  ....  89 

CHAP.     X.     ADIEU  TO  THE  MINING  CAMP,       -    96 

CHAP.    XI.     NICK     PERKINS     THE     MONEY 

LENDER,        ....        IQI 

CHAP   XII.     BARBARA  IN  THE  CHILCOTEN  VAL- 
LEY,         -        -        .        -        -     no 
CHAP. XIII.     THE  MORTGAGE  COMES  DUE,  115 


1694351 


PAGE 

CHAP.     XIV.     BLAKELY  CONSULTS  CAMERON'S 

LAWYER,     -       -        -  121 

CHAP.      XV.     CAMERON'S  RESOLVE,  126 

CHAP.  XVI.  THE  RETURN  OF  THE  GOLD 

DIGGERS,  -  -  -  -  131 

CHAP.  XVII.  CAMERON  OUTLINES  His  POL- 
ICY, 136 

CHAP.  XVIII.     THE  ICE  RAFT,      -        -  143 

CHAP.  XVIX.     LECLARE  TO  PROSPECT  IN  AR- 
CADIA,    -        -        -        -  153 
CHAP.      XX.     LUCY  VISITS  THE  ARCHIPELAGO,  157 

CHAP.     XXI.     UNDER  THE  INITIALED  TREE,  166 
CHAP.   XXII.     THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  COR- 
NER STONES,  171 
CHAP.  XXIII.     FRASER   CONFERS  WITH    PER 

KINS,          -           -           -           .  175 

CHAP.  XXIV.     PERKINS  AGAIN  OUTWITTED,  182 

CHAP.    XXV.     DONALD  BAN  AT  THE  FRONT,  -  188 

CHAP  XXVI.     CAMERON'S  TASK  COMPLETED,  195 

THE  GROWING  MASKINONGE,   -        .        .        .  200 


List  of  Full  Page  Illustrations. 


"  Lucy  *  *  *  watched  intently  a  boat  pushing  out 

from  a  bay  farther  up  the  shore."  Frontispiece. 

FACING  PAGE 

"I  had  run  across  Jimmie,  one  day,  while  pros- 
pecting for  water  lilies,"  -  22 

"  '  Now,  Nick  Perkins,  if  you  have  got  anything  to 
say  to  me  personally,  just  come  down  here  in 
the  road  and  I'll  talk  to  you,'"  -  -  69 

"  '  Speak,  Edmond  !'  gasped  Cameron.  '  What  have 
you  behind  your  back  ?  It's  gold  !  gold  ! — I 
know  it !  '  '  -  76 

"  As  the  hour  of  the  sale  approached,  they  assembled 

at  the  east  end  of  the  broad  veranda,"      -         -       189 

"  '  Well,  it's  pretty  bad,'  said  Du  Ponte,  'but  Ribbon 

needs  you  the  worst  of  any  of  us,'  "  -      213 


The  cArchipelago. 


As  the  eagle  stirs  up  her  nest  upon  the 
crags  and  forces  her  young  over  the  confines 
of  the  inadequate  abode,  it  is  then  that  they 
spread  their  wings  and  soar  away  to  freedom 
and  independence.  So  is  it  with  the  great 
river  of  rivers,  the  St.  Lawrence.  Born  among 
the  Northwest  Lakes,  and  sheltered  there  for 
a  time,  resenting  intrusion,  it  steals  away  un- 
noticed from  the  watershed  expanse.  Thread- 
ing its  course  through  the  marshes  and  low- 
lands, it  gathers  momentum  as  it  speeds  on- 
ward, till,  the  volume  growing  too  great  for 

11 


The  Archipelago. 

its  confining  banks,  its  waters  rebel,  and 
breaking  from  control,  spread  forth  into  the 
boisterous  storm-tossed  Erie.  Here  they  are 
disrupted  and  buffeted  about,  driven  by  the 
winds  and  carried  onward  by  a  terrible  un- 
dertow. Now  drawn  through  a  narrow, 
deep  channel,  swiftly  they  pass  the  cities  on 
the  shore.  Too  quickly  they  are  speeding 
to  heed  or  be  disturbed  longer  by  the  warring 
of  the  elements.  Down  to  the  very  brink  of 
the  awful  precipice  ahead  they  charge  with 
ever-increasing  speed,  then  over  the  Niag- 
ara, pouring  far  beneath  into  the  seething, 
boiling  caldrons. 

After  surging  still  onward  through  jagged, 
walled  raceways,  then  emerging  into  a  lake  of 
whirling  eddies,  till  finally  fought  out  to  ex- 
haustion, the  once  rampant  waters  of  the  tu- 
multuous Erie  flow  peacefully  into  the  haven 
of  the  Lake  of  Ontario.  Here  at  rest,  land- 
locked by  the  grape-bearing  vineyards  of  the 
Niagara  and  the  peach  groves  of  the  Canadian 
Paradise  of  the  West,  the  St.  Lawrence  is  again 
reinforced,  and  again  its  voyage  onward  to  the 
sea  is  begun,  this  time  marked  by  the  dig- 

12 


The  Archipelago. 

nity  of  a  well-organized  body.  The  blue 
waters,  through  their  separate  channels,  glide 
majestically  down  their  course,  passing  the 
islands  in  their  midst  with  a  happy  smile  and 
ripples  of  sunlight  laughter.  Touching  at  the 
wharfs  of  the  numerous  cottagers  and  lapping 
the  white  shining  sides  of  the  pleasure  craft 
among  the  Thousand  Islands,  onward  heed- 
lessly flows  the  beautiful  river  increasing  in 
strength. 

Once  more  before  reaching  the  haven  of 
the  Archipelago,  the  water  channels  of  the 
great  river  are  bidden  to  struggle  with  one  an- 
other, to  fight  for  supremacy  and  swiftness, 
and  demonstrate  to  the  other  creatures  of  na- 
ture the  mighty  forces  hidden  at  other  times 
beneath  the  tranquil  surface  of  her  smiling 
face.  The  rapids  of  the  Sioux  are  now  left 
behind  and  we  come  to  that  part  of  the  ma- 
jestic river  included  in  these  sketches,  which 
territorial  lines  have  placed  within  the  borders 
of  our  friendly  Canadian  ally,  the  Lake  St. 
Francis.  Beginning  immediately  after  the  sub- 
siding of  the  waters  from  their  turbulent  pas- 
sage through  the  rapids  of  the  Sioux,  the 

13 


The  Archipelago. 

river  spreads  out  till  its  confining  banks  are 
in  places  ten  miles  apart.  There  in  this  wide 
expanse  stretching  across  toward  the  blue  ir- 
regular mountain  line  of  the  Adirondacks,  far 
to  the  southward,  then  eastward  till  the  vis- 
ion meets  the  water  line,  lie  the  islands 
grouped  for  beauty  by  nature's  gardener, 
called  by  the  writer  the  Arcadian  Archipel- 
ago. 

The  very  atmosphere  of  this  enchanted  re- 
gion compels  the  thoughts  of  peace  and  free- 
dom. A  restful  idleness  pervades  the  life  of 
its  people;  and  while  they  fish  and  row  about 
through  the  islands  of  the  group,  picnicing 
with  their  friends  of  the  Cameron  or  McDon- 
ald Clan  from  the  "Gore,"  little  do  they  care 
for  the  tending  of  the  farm,  the  harvesting  of 
the  crops,  or  the  speeding  of  time.  The  only 
"walking  delegate"  whose  ruling  they  recog- 
nize, is  the  rising  or  setting  sun.  Upon  the 
interval  of  time,  for  them  there  are  no  restric- 
tions. 

Free  from  the  cares  of  business,  ignorant  of 
the  affairs  of  political  intriguing,  and  shielded 
by  happiness  from  all  social  strife,  these  primi- 

14 


The  Archipelago. 

tive  inhabitants  of  the  Archipelago  live  on  as 
does  the  flowering  plant-life  of  the  district. 
They  bask  in  the  sun  of  the  Spring  and  Sum- 
mer seasons,  only  to  hide  away  again  for 
months  from  the  Winter's  snows  and  the  icy 
winds  of  December  and  March.  As  life  among 
the  people  of  Glengarry  and  the  settlers  at 
the  "Front"  over  on  the  mainland,  goes  hap- 
pily on,  unchanged  by  the  passing  social  fads 
of  the  century,  so  also  upon  the  St.  Francis 
Islands  nature  still  retains  her  original  ten- 
ants and  social  customs.  The  Indians  from 
the  tribe  of  St.  Regis  at  the  reservation  on 
the  mainland  guard  with  a  jealous  care  their 
coveted  hunting  grounds  from  possession  by 
the  white  men ;  and  neither  thus  far  has  the 
woodsman's  axe  nor  the  painted  cottage  of 
the  "first  settler"  succeeded  in  gaining  an  en- 
tree into  the  sacred  confines  of  the  St.  Francis 
Archipelago. 


15 


Along  The  Front  the  north  bank  of  the  river 
skirting  the  Arcadian  Archipelago  is  high  and 
terraced  up  from  the  water's  edge  to  the  road- 
way, which  follows  the  indentations  of  the 
shore  line  westward  to  the  county  seat  of  Glen- 
garry. Over  this  road  the  country  folk  from  the 
interior  townships  make  their  weekly  pilgrim- 
ages to  market  the  products  of  their  farms. 
Facing  this  road  also,  and  looking  out  upon 
the  broad  river,  dotted  with  wooded  islands, 
are  the  farm-houses,  the  small  church,  and 
the  dilapidated  remains  of  what  was  once  a 
prosperous  boat  landing  called  The  Front.  In 
the  palmy  days  of  river  freighting  this  little 
weather-beaten  hamlet  had  some  excuse  for 
a  hope  of  life,  but  now  that  river  navigation 
all  over  the  world  has  been  paralleled  with  the 
modern  steel-winged  carriers,  time  and  neg- 

16 


Along  The  Front. 

lect  have  stamped  their  impress  upon  the  de- 
serted buildings  and  docks,  which  at  one  time 
in  the  long  ago  had  shown  fair  signs  of  a 
prolonged  life. 

From  Castle  Island,  as  we  look  across  the 
boat  channel  and  over  the  intervening  strips 
of  rush  banks  to  the  mainland,  the  remains  of 
the  business  part  of  The  Front  present  a 
deserted  and  uninviting  appearance. 

First  we  see  the  dilapidated  dock;  then  a 
disheveled  freight  building;  near  by  in  a  small 
bay,  is  a  broken-down  boat  house,  sadly 
twisted  by  the  "ice  shoves"  in  the  Spring  of 
the  year.  Next  we  can  see  the  old  brown, 
weather-discolored  tavern  with  an  extension 
reaching  out  toward  the  east.  A  dance  hall 
it  was,  and  below,  the  beaux  of  old  Glen- 
garry stabled  their  horses,  while  they  danced 
overhead  to  the  music  of  the  bagpipes  until 
dawn  of  day.  Sad,  as  he  views  the  scene, 
must  be  the  thoughts  of  one  of  these  gallants 
returning  to  his  native  home.  In  the  palmy 
days  of  The  Front  he  had  proudly  escorted 
the  farmer's  comely  lassie  through  the  cor- 
ridors of  the  tavern  and  up  the  broad  stairs 

17 


Along  The  Front. 

to  the  dance  hall,  pleased  with  his  choice  of  a 
partner  and  happy  in  the  simplicity  of  his 
surroundings.  To-day,  the  name  on  the 
sign-board  over  the  entrance  is  no  longer 
readable.  The  plank  steps,  once  strong 
and  unbending,  have  rotted  away  at  the 
ends  and  the  centre,  until  now,  for  the  use 
of  the  laborer's  family  who  occupy  the 
old  shell  as  their  living  apartments,  broken 
pieces  of  plank  for  steps  are  held  up  by  stones 
placed  one  upon  the  other.  The  dance  hall  in 
the  extension  presents  the  sorriest  appearance 
to  the  visitor  approaching  from  the  water's 
side.  A  woodyard  with  jagged,  uncut  logs  and 
little  heaps  of  chips  picked  up  here  and  there 
from  the  chopper's  axe,  fills  the  yard  and  what 
was  once  the  stabling-shed  for  the  chafing 
steeds  of  the  Glengarry  lads.  The  gable  end 
of  the  hall  is  all  awry;  the  archways  beneath 
and  the  supporting  posts  have  leaned  over, 
tired  as  it  were,  of  the  long,  weary  wait  against 
the  time  when  they  will  be  no  longer  asked  to 
support  their  useless  burden.  Doves,  unmo- 
lested, fly  in  and  out  through  the  broken 
panes  of  the  windows,  and  strut  and  coo  along 

18 


Along  The  Front. 

the  weather-checked  vane  of  the  roof.  Where 
once  the  droning  of  the  bagpipes  re-echoed 
through  the  full  length  of  the  building,  it  is 
now  the  buzzing  of  the  bumble-bee  and  the 
tenor  singing  wasps  that  we  hear  as  they 
swarm  around  their  hive-nests  suspended  from 
the  rafters.  Gone  forever  from  the  old  tav- 
ern are  the  good  times  of  yore,  and  like  the 
business  prosperity  at  the  landing,  they  have 
followed  the  noisy  rivermen  down  the  stream 
to  return  again  no  more  to  The  Front. 

To  describe  the  surviving  enterprises  at 
The  Front — there  are,  first,  the  government 
post-office;  then  the  buckboard  stage  line  ply- 
ing between  The  Front  and  the  station  to  the 
railway  two  miles  inland;  and,  lastly,  the  boat 
builder's  plant  in  the  bay.  It  would  seem 
that  the  traveling  public  were  charitably  in- 
clined toward  the  ancient  buckskin  mare  and 
the  driver  of  the  mail  coach,  for  daily  the 
old  nag  is  hitched  to  the  buckboard;  the  can- 
vas mail-sack  is  rolled  up  and  tucked  into 
the  pocket  of  the  driver's  linen-dusterlike 
coat,  and  without  ever  a  passenger  to  tax 
the  strength  of  the  old  mare  or  the 

19 


Along  The  Front. 

comfort  of  the  driver,  they  jog  along  to- 
gether to  the  station,  then  back.  The  return 
pouch  is  extracted  from  the  folds  of  the  ac- 
commodating coat,  handed  over  to  the  official 
postmaster,  and  the  business  event  of  the  day 
at  The  Front  is  closed. 

Down  by  the  water's  edge,  with  one  corner 
of  its  base,  as  if  from  a  misstep,  dipping  down 
into  the  stream,  is  the  plant  of  the  boat 
builder.  Across  at  Castle  Island  each  season 
his  couple  of  boats,  the  result  of  his  Winter's 
employment,  are  disposed  of;  then  after  re- 
calking  the  two  which  he  had  sold  the  pre- 
vious season,  and  had  re-purchased  at  second- 
hand prices,  he  awaits  through  the  long  Sum- 
mer days,  the  arrival  of  trade. 

Each  day  as  I  looked  across  at  The  Front, 
my  field  glasses  refused  to  change  the  same- 
ness of  the  scene  or  setting  by  even  discov- 
ering a  venturesome  pedestrian  sauntering 
down  the  dusty  road,  or  a  child  running  an 
errand  for  an  industrious  housewife  to  the 
post-office  or  general  store.  Curiosity  had 
about  decided  me  to  make  a  visit  of  investi- 

20 


Along  The  Front. 

gation,  but  before  an  opportunity  to  act  came, 
I  was  told  a  caller  wished  to  see  me. 

"I  am  from  The  Front,  aye,  sir,  just  yon- 
der acrost,  and  three  farms  up  from  the  post- 
office  is  where  I  live.  Jimmie  MacPherson 
— James  T.  MacPherson  is  my  right  name,  but 
they  call  me  Jimmie  around  here.  Of  course, 
I  mean,"  he  added  apologetically,  "they  do 
over  at  the  cheese  factory  and  the  wheelwright 
shop.  You  city  folks  here  on  the  island,  from 
New  York,  don't  know  me,  so  I'm  telling 
you  my  full  name,  but  you  can  call  me  Jim- 
mie, too,  if  you  like  that  better." 

"All  right,  Jimmie,"  said  I,  "that  sounds 
mere  like  getting  on  together.  Have  a  seat 
here  on  the  veranda,  or  we  will  go  down  on  the 
dock,  just  as  you  say."  I  thought  the  pres- 
ence of  ladies  near  by  might  interfere  with  the 
free  discussion  of  the  subject  about  which 
Jimmie  had  thought  it  necessary  to  call. 

"On  the  veranda,"  replied  Jimmie,  and  a 
mischievous  twinkle  was  in  his  eyes,  as  he 
shaded  them  from  the  glare  of  the  morning 
sun  with  the  rough  fingers  of  his  right  hand. 
"You  will  see  by  my  complexion,"  he  con- 

21 


Along  The  Front. 

tinued  in  a  humorous  strain,  "that  I  am  not 
used  to  being  out  in  the  sun.  The  field  corn 
grows  so  fast  along  The  Front  that  we  are 
constantly  in  the  shade  while  out  promenad- 
ing." Then  he  turned  his  shining  counte- 
nance on  me  to  confirm  what  he  had  said.  An 
honest  face  it  was,  covered  with  an  unkempt, 
fiery  red  beard.  His  skin  was  burned  and 
blistered  in  spots  extending  from  the  shade 
mark  on  the  forehead  made  by  his  greasy  felt 
hat  till  lost  in  perspective  in  the  dense  under- 
growth of  the  lower  chin  and  neck. 

I  had  run  across  Jimmie  one  day  while  pro- 
specting for  water  lilies,  at  the  mouth  of  a 
small  creek  which  emptied  its  waters  by  a  cir- 
cuitous route  into  one  of  the  channels  of  the 
large  river,  to  be  found  over  in  the  region  of 
Hoag  Island  and  the  Dead  Channel.  Jimmie 
on  that  morning  was  cocked  up  in  the  stern 
seat  of  his  flat-bottomed  punt.  Two  wooden 
pins  acting  as  oar  locks,  stuck  into  the  sides  of 
the  boat  and  recently  whittled  to  a  whiteness 
of  the  wood,  were  the  only  relief  in  color  to 
that  of  the  boat  and  crew.  Jimmie  was  the 
captain  and  the  crew  consisted  of  the  spaniel 

22 


Along  The  Front. 

dog,  whose  brown  coat  corresponded  so 
closely  to  the  coloring  of  the  metal  and  stock 
of  the  beautiful  modern  shot  gun,  and  the  en- 
tire costume  of  Jimmie  and  his  river  craft, 
that  as  he  lay  alongside  of  a  reed-bank  filled 
with  dried  cat-tail  I  had  nearly  run  him  down 
before  making  the  discovery. 

"Good  morning,  stranger,"  said  Jimmie,  in 
a  calm,  well-inflected  voice.  A  smile  seemed 
to  be  playing  all  about  his  face.  Bristling  in 
the  sun  was  his  red  kinky  beard,  shining 
his  face  as  though  rubbed  to  a  polish,  the 
shabby  felt  hat  reaching  out  modestly  to  the 
line  in  the  middle  of  his  forehead.  He  was 
perched  on  the  seat,  crowded  back  into  the 
stern  of  the  boat,  and  the  water  spaniel,  proud 
and  important,  moved  with  ease  between  the 
rowing  seat  and  the  perch  upon  which  his  mas- 
ter sat  making  observations.  Looking  more 
closely  at  my  discovery  before  making  any  re- 
ply to  his  salutation,  I  saw  on  his  feet  a  pair  of 
"contract-made"  shoes,  rivets  and  buckles 
prominently  in  sight,  which  had  from  long 
usage  taken  on  a  shape  resembling  an  ele- 
phant's foot  in  miniature,  all  instep  and  few 

23 


Along  The  Front. 

toes;  a  pair  of  blue  jeans,  a  negligee  shirt,  a 
leather  strap  making  upward  and  diagonally 
across  the  chest  for  a  wire  nail  on  the  band  of 
the  trousers  at  the  back,  and  a  four-in-hand  tie 
of  undefinable  pattern,  the  quilting  of  which 
had  suffered  a  sad  displacement  and  was  cling- 
ing in  shreds  to  the  original  band  encircling  his 
neck,  which  had  been  tenderly  preserved  by 
the  spinach-fringe  of  unfading  brightness. 

"Hello,"  said  I,  in  return  of  salute.  "Shoot- 
ing out  of  season?" 

At  that  instant  I  was  not  conscious  of  the 
significance  of  my  remark,  which  had  popped 
out  spontaneously  with  my  first  sight  of  Jim- 
mie  and  his  crew. 

"No,"  he  replied.  "I  heard  up  along  The 
Front  that  there  were  some  good  dory  holes 
in  this  channel,  so  I  thought  I  would  come  up 
in  here  and  see  if  I  could  find  the  fish  weeds. 
Then  I  would  know  for  myself." 

"Oh,  I  see!"  said  I.  "Good  scheme,  isn't 
it?"  Then  we  each  laughed  a  little  and  seemed 
to  understand  each  other  better  after  that. 
My  boat  had  drifted  up  alongside,  and  curi- 
osity led  me  to  ask  permission  to  examine 

24 


Along  The  Front. 

the  modern  gun  of  beautiful  finish  and  work- 
manship, a  striking  contrast  to  the  attire,  at 
least,  of  the  owner. 

"A  good  gun,  stranger,"  remarked  Jimmie. 

"Yes,  and  an  expensive  one,  I  should  think, 
any  way.  What  use  have  you  for  such  a  gun?" 
I  said,  as  I  returned  it  to  him. 

"Well,  you  see,"  began  Jimmie,  "a  gun  is 
like  some  other  things.  When  you  need  one, 
you  need  it  pretty  bad,  and  then  you  can't 
have  too  good  a  one,  and  that's  why  I  have 
one  like  this."  For  an  instant  I  imagined  I 
was  out  in  the  Pan  Handle  country  of  Texas 
and  that  the  advice  of  my  friend  would  be 
good  to  follow.  But,  no!  Here  I  was  in  a 
boat  in  Arcadia  on  the  peaceful  Lake  St. 
Francis.  Then  looking  again  quickly  toward 
the  boat  and  crew  at  my  left,  I  was  met  by  a 
broad  grin  from  its  occupant. 

"Jimmie,"  I  said,  "you're  the  sort  I  always 
want  to  know.  Come  over  to  Castle  Island  to- 
morrow and  we  will  'talk  it  over.'  " 

Since  meeting  Jimmie  down  in  the  rush 
banks,  I  had  heard  more  about  him  from  the 
guides  on  the  Island,  and  I  knew  his  call  this 

25 


Along  The  Front. 

morning  would   prove    both    interesting  and 
entertaining. 

Jimmie,  they  told  me,  had  at  one  time  di- 
rected the  political  affairs  of  the  County  Glen- 
garry. That  is,  he  had  been  employed  as 
secretary  t>y  the  representative  in  Parliament 
from  his  district.  This  gentleman  could  neither 
read  nor  write  nor  compose  a  speech  to  be 
delivered  before  his  constituents.  With  him 
Jimmie  spent  several  months  at  the  Canadian 
Capital,  where  in  his  capacity  as  secretary,  he 
had  been  writing  speeches  for  his  chief  which 
were  supposed  to  be  delivered  before  the  rep- 
resentatives in  Parliament,  but  which  instead, 
his  wily  employer  had  directed  should  be  sent 
home  for  publication  in  the  county  newspa- 
per for  the  edification  of  the  voters  who 
had  made  him  their  representative.  Jim- 
mie had  schooled  his  charge  "The  Member" 
in  the  civilities  and  court  etiquette  necessary 
to  be  employed  toward  his  brother  "mem- 
bers." He  had  also  trained  him,  the  while  ex- 
ercising great  tact  and  patience,  how  to  make 
use  of  the  most  approved  mannerisms  and  fig- 
ures of  speech  while  addressing  the  speaker  of 

26 


Along  The  Front. 

the  house.  The  extent  of  the  oratorical  effort, 
Jimmie  insisted  with  his  pupil,  must  not  ex- 
ceed the  few  phrases  necessary  for  the  second- 
ing of  a  motion  put  by  a  colleague,  or  a  per- 
functory motion  to  adjourn. 

Then  with  the  "spread-eagle"  speeches  he 
had  prepared  for  the  press  agents  of  the  coun- 
ties which  he  and  his  employer  were  repre- 
senting, affairs  at  the  Capital,  Jimmie  had  con- 
gratulated himself,  were  going  on  swim- 
mingly. 

One  night,  however,  as  the  Quixotic  mem- 
ber came  to  Jimmie's  room  for  final  direc- 
tions as  to  his  movements  in  Parliament  for 
the  next  day's  session,  he  found  his  instruc- 
tor boisterously  delivering  before  an  imag- 
inary audience,  one  of  his  pet  political 
speeches.  Paying  no  attention  to  his  caller, 
Jimmie  proceeded  with  the  speech — the  need- 
ed appropriations  which  he  demanded  from 
the  government  to  benefit  the  industries  sit- 
uated in  the  great  manufacturing  town,  The 
Front,  which  he  had  the  honor  to  represent, 
and  the  extensive  dredging  operations  which 
were  necessary  to  widen  the  channel  to  ac- 

27 


Along  The  Front 

commodate  the  lake  and  river  craft,  constantly 
increasing  their  volume  of  business,  which 
could  be  proven  by  the  congested  condition  of 
the  docks,  to  be  seen  any  day  in  the  boating 
season  at  The  Front,  etc. 

Poor  Jimmie!  The  strain  on  his  mental 
faculties  had  been  too  great.  "Crazy,"  the 
doctors  were  cruel  enough  to  say.  So  they 
took  him  back  to  The  Front,  gentle  of  man- 
ner, but  the  enlarged  idea  he  had  created  in 
his  brain  of  the  condition  of  the  business  af- 
fairs at  The  Front  never  parted  company  with 
him. 

"I  have  come  over  this  morning,"  began 
Jimmie,  after  we  had  seated  ourselves  by 
the  woodbine,  "to  extend  to  you  a  welcome 
and  the  courtesies  of  the  people  of  The 
Front.  I  have  been  instructed  by  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Board  of  Trade  to  offer  you  and 
your  friends  the  free  use  of  the  docks  of  the 
port  opposite  here.  The  use  of  the  Assem- 
bly Hall  attached  to  the  Hustings  has  been 
unanimously  granted  by  the  members  of  the 
Town  Council,  and  also  arrangements  have 
been  consummated  whereby  passes  can  be  se- 

28 


Along  The  Front. 

cured  to  visit  the  extensive  boat-building  plant 
situated  directly  opposite  on  the  mainland.  I 
am  also  authorized  to  say  that  between  the 
hours  of  ten  and  twelve,  morning,  the  cheese 
manufacturing  industry,  during  week  days, 
and  the  church  at  Glen  Water,  Sundays,  will 
be  open  to  visitors  from  the  Island.  Now,  my 
friend,"  continued  Jimmie,  rising  and  placing 
his  hand  upon  the  back  of  the  chair  for  good 
oratorical  effect,  "come  over  to  The  Front. 
You  are  welcome,  we  are  not  too  busy  a  peo- 
ple to  miss  seeing  you  when  you  do  come.  In 
fact,  I  can  assure  you  that  you  will  feel  well 
repaid  for  the  effort.  Why,  stop  and  think, 
my  dear  sir,"  he  went  on,  his  eyes  snapping 
with  excitement  and  his  features  twitching 
with  nervousness,  "progress  and  prosperity 
are  within  our  grasp.  The  grandest  water-way 
of  the  whole  world  passes  our  very  door. 
Manufactories  are  already  at  work  in  our 
midst,  and  the  eye  of  Capital  is  upon  us. 
Great,  I  say,  yes,  wonderful  are  the  induce- 
ments we  offer  for  visitors  coming  among  us. 
Again  I  say,  come  over  to  The  Front.  You 
will  not  find  yourself  alone.  Leading  capi- 

29 


Along  The  Front. 

talists  from  all  over  the  world  have  been  to 
see  us.  The  truth  is  you  can't  tell  whom  you 
may  meet  while  you  are  over  there." 

"Thank  you,  Jimmie,  thank  you.  Good 
morning,"  I  said.  "You  can  expect  me." 
Then  bowing  and  hesitating  as  though  he  had 
received  an  unexpected  check  from  the 
Speaker  of  the  House  of  Parliament,  he 
seemed  to  wish  to  say  more,  but  with  a  rare 
courtesy  of  manner,  he  bowed  himself  out 
of  my  presence,  then  joining  his  brown  span- 
iel dog,  who  awaited  his  master  on  the  shore, 
they  got  into  their  boat  and  rowed  back  to 
The  Front. 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 


CHAPTER  I. 
The  Camerons  at  the  Front. 


On  a  rise  of  ground  at  "The  Front"  called 
the  "Nole"  stands  the  Cariboo  House,  con- 
spicuously alone. 

There,  fronting  the  river  channel  which 
separates  Castle  Island  from  the  mainland,  its 
tinned  mansard  roof  and  the  golden  ball  on  the 
summit  of  the  flag-staff  blazing  in  the  morn- 
ing's sun,  the  marble  castle  of  the  Archipel- 
ago shares  with  the  mighty  St.  Lawrence,  the 
admiration  of  the  tourists. 

Then  as  the  guests  at  the  Island  gather 
upon  the  quay  at  sunset,  the  tall  marble  col- 

31 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

umns  and  overhanging  gables  of  the  House 
of  Cariboo,  frown  down  upon  the  waters  of 
the  placid  river,  casting  shadows  of  ugly  pro- 
portions that  reach  across  to  the  very  pier 
upon  which  the  spectators  are  standing,  and  as 
they  linger,  fascinated  by  the  glories  of  na- 
ture, they  look  again,  and  behold!  outlined 
against  the  gold  and  copper  edged  clouds 
strewn  over  the  horizon,  they  see  projecting 
itself  heavenward,  the  green-latticed  observa- 
tory, and  from  its  vane  reaching  up  into  the 
clouds  is  the  gilded  sphere  on  the  flag-pole 
still  blazing  from  the  setting  sun,  while  all 
else  on  earth  below  has  grown  dark  and  si- 
lent. 

Years  have  passed  since  the  older  inhabi- 
tants of  Glengarry  paused  and  looked  in  be- 
wilderment as  they  traveled  the  roadway  on 
The  Front  past  the  House  of  Cariboo.  Even 
now,  after  listening  to  the  preceding  genera- 
tion tell  and  retell  stories  of  Aladdin  interest 
of  the  House  of  Cariboo,  the  children  of  the 
countryside  pass  hurriedly  on  their  way  to 
the  district  school,  never  once  turning  to  gaze 
at  the  mansion,  brought  as  if  from  fairyland 

32 


and  put  down  in  the  midst  of  their  unpre?- 
tentious  rural  surroundings,  till  at  a  safe  dis- 
tance, when  they  loiter  and,  looking  backward, 
unconsciously  relieve  their  disturbed  little 
minds  by  breaking  off  the  heads  of  the  bob- 
bing daisies,  till  urged  further  along  on  their 
way  by  the  passing  of  time. 

There  are  in  Glengarry  County,  as  you 
might  reasonably  suppose,  many  families 
whose  direct  ancestors,  if  you  cared  to  trace 
them,  would  lead  you  at  once  to  the  lochs,, 
lowlands  or  mountain  passes  of  the  Scottish' 
Isle.  The  Clans  of  the  McDonalds,  the  Cam- 
erons  and  the  MacPhersons,  have  each  sent  a 
goodly  representation  to  sustain  in  the  new- 
land  of  the  Canadas  the  glory  of  their  fam- 
ilies in  the  Scottish  hills  of  their  fathers. 

There  were  in  the  beginning,  at  The  Front 
in  Glengarry,  one  Andy  Cameron,  and  his 
two  brothers,  called  "Andy's  Dan,"  and 
"Laughing  Donald  Cameron."  Many  an- 
other family  of  Camerons  lived  in  Glengarry, 
but  there  was  no  mistaking  these  three  broth- 
ers. Dan,  who  made  his  home  with  Andy 
Cameron  and  his  wife,  never  left  the  premises 

33 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

of  the  little  farm  on  the  "Nole"  unless  Andy 
and  his  wife  went  along  too,  and  this  becom- 
ing the  understood  thing  among  the  neigh- 
bors at  The  Front  and  the  storekeepers  at  the 
county  town  of  Glengarry,  Dan  Cameron 
came  to  be  known  as  Andy's  Dan.  The  dis- 
tinction was  understood,  his  pedigree  was  re- 
corded in  the  minds  of  the  people  of  the 
neighborhood,  and  he  was  forever  out  of  dan- 
ger of  being  confused  with  the  other  Dan 
Camerons  of  his  neighborhood.  Simple  Dan, 
kind-hearted  Dan,  and  most  of  all  Andy's 
Dan. 

Laughing  Donald  had  taken  up  a  small 
farm  from  the  government  when  he  and  his 
timid,  frail  wife  first  came  to  Glengarry,  and 
poor  Donald  never  seemed  to  be  any  more 
successful  in  getting  clear  from  the  taxes  lev- 
ied each  year  upon  him  than  he  was  in  clear- 
ing the  few  acres  he  possessed  of  the  tree 
stumps,  that  were  the  bane  of  his  life  dur- 
ing seed-time  and  harvesting. 

A  few  years  of  land  holding  by  Laughing 
Donald  in  Glengarry  had  been  an  added  ex- 
pense to  Andy,  who  loaned  from  his  own  little 

34 


The  Camerons  at  the  Front 

store  of  savings  each  year  to  keep  his  brother 
from  the  long-reaching  clutch  of  the  county 
tax  gatherer;  but  always  laughingly  indiffer- 
ent when  he  knew  his  crop  yield  was  miser- 
ably poor,  Donald  became  known  to  the  coun- 
try people,  and  at  the  village  where  he  and 
his  sickly  wife  went  to  trade  their  dried  ap- 
ples and  carpet-rags  for  groceries,  as  Laugh- 
ing Donald  Cameron.  He  laughed  if  he  was 
greeted  kindly,  and  he  also  laughed  with  the 
same  apparent  degree  of  happiness  if  a  hard- 
hearted merchant  told  him  his  produce  was 
not  worth  the  buying.  So  Laughing  Don- 
ald filled  a  niche,  whose  personality  was  all 
his  own,  and  neither  was  he  ever  confounded 
with  others  of  his  name  in  the  County  Glen- 
garry. 

Tilling  the  ground  on  his  small  farm  on 
The  Front  seemed  very  hard  work  to  Donald 
Cameron.  His  gentle  wife,  since  their  com- 
ing to  the  new  land  of  the  Canadas,  had  pined 
for  the  associations  of  her  Scottish  hills;  her 
health  had  failed  with  the  broken  spirit  till 
she  was  now  pronounced  an  invalid.  For 
her,  the  delicacies  of  life  could  not  be  pro- 

35 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

vided,  and  sickness  and  misfortune  speedily 
came  to  their  humble  home.  Soon  two  of  the 
children  of  Laughing  Donald  were  buried  in 
the  churchyard  at  The  Front  and  the  illness 
of  his  wife  continued. 

Andy  Cameron  had  noted  with  increasing 
solicitude  the  inroads  being  made  by  sick- 
ness and  death  into  the  home  of  his  brother. 
Unpaid  bills  were  accumulating  and  the  hand 
of  misfortune  was  close  upon  the  head  of  the 
luckless  Donald.  Andy  had  seen  his  lawyer 
friend  up  at  the  county  village,  then  consult- 
ing his  wife  Barbara,  a  mortgage  was  first 
made  on  his  own  farm  at  the  "Nole,"  and 
Donald's  obligations  were  paid  in  full.  But 
then  the  doctor's  bill  came  next  to  Donald, 
for  weeks  and  months  of  medical  attendance 
upon  his  invalid  wife,  and,  still  laughing  in 
his  childish  way,  he  brought  it,  as  if  amused 
at  the  impossible  amount,  and  handed  it  to 
Andy. 

"Go  back  home,  Donald,"  was  Andy's  re- 
ply. "Take  good  care  of  your  poor  wife.  The 
doctor  must  be  paid."  And  then  Andy  made 
another  trip  up  to  the  village.  At  the  law- 

36 


The  Camerons  at  the  Front. 

yer's  he  arranged  for  the  money  and  then  for 
the  mortgage  which  was  this  time  to  be  placed 
upon  Donald's  little  farm. 

That  night,  as  Andy  journeyed  homeward 
from  the  town,  he  recalled  how  he  and  his  wife 
and  Dan,  his  simple-minded  brother,  had 
struggled  to  clear  their  little  farm  of  debt; 
how  they  had  stumped  the  land  and  builded 
barns  and  stables,  and  fenced  in  the  mead- 
ows for  their  cattle;  how  happy  they  had 
been  when  they  had  paid  off  the  last  of  the 
tax  debt;  and  how  proudly  he  walked  up  the 
church  aisle  upon  a  Sunday,  and  sat  in  the 
end  of  the  pew  at  the  head  of  his  little  family 
and  afterwards  greeted  his  neighbors  around 
the  church  door,  as  they  stood  gossiping  after 
service.  But  now  to  think  what  he  had  been 
compelled  to  do.  Donald  was  his  brother, 
though,  and  was  not  poor  Donald  in  trouble? 
And  his  invalid  wife — Andy  well  knew  that  if 
a  few  of  the  luxuries  of  life  and  the  tender 
care  which  her  timid,  shrinking  nature  cried 
out  for,  could  only  be  given  to  her  in  ever 
so  slight  a  degree,  she  would  no  longer  be  a 
suffering  invalid. 

37 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

"Two  years,"  Andy  remarked  to  himself, 
"was  the  time  set  before  the  lawyer  could  fore- 
close on  his  own  homestead,  and  the  same 
time  was  set  for  his  brother,  Laughing  Don- 
ald." Andy  recalled  as  he  rode  slowly  home- 
ward, that  the  storekeeper  hesitated  as  he  gave 
him  the  pound  of  tea  to  be  charged  as  before, 
and  when  he  had  asked  for  a  dollar's  worth 
of  brown  sugar,  he  had  only  been  given  half 
that  amount.  It  was  to  be  charged  also. 

"Who  were  they  that  dared  to  think  a  Cam- 
eron would  not  pay  a  just  bill!  Was  not  he 
a  Cameron,  the  eldest  of  his  brothers,  and 
from  the  proudest  clan  of  all  the  Highland 
Tartans?" 

Andy  felt  as  he  had  never  felt  before.  The 
latent  pride  of  his  forefathers  was  stirred  with- 
in him.  Should  they  take  the  farm  from  his 
brother  Donald?  Should  they  take  his  farm 
and  that  of  his  wife  and  the  home  of  his 
simple-minded  brother  Dan?  "No,  never!"  de- 
termined Andy,  "not  while  I  live  to  protect 
the  innocent,"  the  cry  went  up  from  his  very 
soul.  There  was  money  to  be  had,  wealth 
to  be  gotten,  for  life  must  be  preserved.  To 

38 


The  Camerons  at  the  Front. 

the  gold  fields  of  California,  to  the  mountain 
passes  of  the  Rockies,  or  the  far  British  Co- 
lumbias,  he  would  go,  and  before  the  expira- 
tion of  the  mortgages  he  would  return,  and  in 
the  eyes  of  his  neighbors  in  Glengarry  and 
among  the  storekeepers  of  the  town,  the  name 
of  Andy's  Dan,  Laughing  Donald  or  Andy 
Cameron  would  stand  good  for  a  great  deal 
more  than  the  pound  of  tea  or  the  paltry  dol- 
lar's worth  of  sugar  they  had  refused  him 
this  very  night  upon  which  he  had  made  his 
resolve. 

A  day  or  two  following  the  last  trip  Andy 
had  made  to  the  county  town  in  the  interest 
of  procuring  more  money,  he  thought  it  next 
important  that  he  consult  his  loyal  but  none 
too  assertive  spouse  concerning  the  execution 
of  the  resolve  he  had  settled  upon,  through 
which  he  hoped  to  clear  the  good  name  of 
Cameron  in  the  county  from  the  insults  which 
had  been  offered  him,  even  so  slightly,  by 
the  storekeepers  in  the  town. 

Barbara  Cameron,  the  faithful  wife  to  whom 
Andy  went  for  encouragement  when  he  found 
that  the  burdens  heaped  upon  him  by  the  un- 

39 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

fortunate  members  of  his  family  were  greater 
than  the  resources  of  the  combined  farms 
could  support,  listened  with  a  heart  full  of 
sympathy  while  her  husband  unfolded  the  plan 
by  which  he  hoped  to  retrieve  their  waning 
fortunes.  Quietly,  at  first,  he  began  to  tell  of 
the  circumstances  which  compelled  him  to 
place  a  mortgage  upon  their  own  little  farm 
and  homestead.  Then,  arising  in  his  excite- 
ment, he  proceeded  to  relate  to  her  the  cruel 
indignities  heaped  upon  his  unfortunate 
brother  by  the  avaricious  tax  gatherer,  who 
seemed  to  take  a  special  delight  in  hunting 
him  to  earth;  and  how,  to  satisfy  his  de- 
mands, and  to  meet  the  bills  of  tbe  doctors 
and  druggists,  he  had  last  of  all  been  com- 
pelled to  mortgage  Donald's  home.  For,  he 
explained,  as  he  sadly  looked  from  the  win- 
dow over  in  its  direction,  he  could  not  re- 
main a  passive  onlooker  while  the  cruel  hand 
of  fate  still  pursued  the  family  of  the  help- 
less Donald,  and  a  low  fever  slowly  burned 
out  the  wick  of  life  in  the  feeble  frame  of 
his  gentle  wife. 

Finally,  with  a  rising  inflection  in  his  voice 

40 


The  Camerons  at  the  Front. 

and  a  righteous  indignation  of  manner,  Andy 
explained  to  his  wife  the  nature  of  the  in- 
sults which  he  had  had  offered  to  him  in  the 
town,  and  that  he,  as  a  Cameron,  and  the  head 
of  their  little  colony  must  resent  the  wrongs, 
and  maintain  the  dignity  and  pride  of  his  fore- 
fathers. He  would  leave  her  for  perhaps  two 
years,  he  said — he  was  going  to  the  gold  fields 
of  the  Canadian  Rocky  Mountains.  There  in 
the  Cariboo  Hills,  in  the  Canons  of  the  Rock- 
ies and  in  the  shifting  river  beds  of  the  melt- 
ing glaziers,  he  would  dig  for  gold.  He  would 
hunt  the  shining  flecks  of  dust,  the  gold  col- 
ored nuggets,  seeking  the  wealth  by  which  he 
hoped  to  retrieve  his  darkening  fortunes. 

"We  will  sell  our  cows,  Barbara."  His 
voice  was  lowered  almost  to  a  whisper.  "You 
and  Dan  shall  have  the  money.  The  team  of 
roans  we  must  part  with,  too,  Barbara.  Laugh- 
ing Donald  and  his  frail  wife,  you  will  be 
kind  to — and  poor  Dan,  tell  him  always,  Bar- 
bara, that  Andy  is  coming  back  soon — coming 
soon." 

With  confiding  faith,  though  she  did  not 
quite  understand,  Barbara  felt  that  if  her  hus- 

41 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

band  said  all  this,  it  must  be  right  for  her  to 
believe  it.  Andy  had  brushed  away  with  the 
back  of  his  hand  the  tears  upon  his  weather- 
beaten  cheeks  awaiting  her  reply.  She  in  her 
characteristic  way,  made  only  this  comment: 
"When  will  you  start,  Andy,  think  ye?" 


CHAPTER  II. 
Barbara,  and  'Dan  at  Home. 

After  wishing  Godspeed  to  her  venturesome 
husband,  Barbara,  with  Andy's  Dan,  was  re- 
turning to  their  little  homestead.  Barbara  sat 
upright  in  the  wagon,  now  and  then  glancing 
backward  over  her  shoulder  toward  the  railroad 
station  they  had  just  left  behind.  This  act  she 
quickly  excused  by  an  attempt  to  arrange  the 
shawl  which  she  held  tightly  clasped  about  her. 
No  tears  were  in  her  eyes  when  she  bade  fare- 
well to  her  husband.  Believing  it  to  be  her 
wifely  duty  to  sustain  him  in  the  extraordinary 
undertaking  he  was  engaging  in,  she  had 
strengthened  her  courage  to  meet  the  final  part- 
ing. From  the  neighbors'  gossip  she  had  come 
to  understand  that  the  chances  were  many  that 

43 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

he  might  never  return  to  her  alive,  and  she  had 
said  to  him:  "Do  not  stay  to  starve  in  the 
mountains.  Come  away  home,  mun;  there  is 
nae  place  better  than  Glengarry  to  dee  in." 
And  he  promised  her  to  return. 

Andy's  Dan,  faithful  in  his  simple  devotion 
to  his  brother,  had  understood  only  in  a  vague 
sort  of  way  the  cause  for  his  leaving  home 
and  the  reasons  which  made  it  necessary  to  sell 
the  stock  of  the  farm,  which  for  years  he  had 
loved  as  his  only  companions.  They  were  gone, 
taken  from  him,  and  so  was  his  brother  and 
protector.  For  weeks  after  Andy's  departure 
he  would  be  seen  each  evening  at  sunset,  lean- 
ing over  the  pair  of  horse  bars  at  the  back  of 
the  house,  gazing  absently  toward  the  western 
horizon.  In  that  silence,  too  sacred  to  be  dis- 
turbed, the  expression  upon  his  soulful  face  an- 
swered all  questions  of  the  curious. 

Time  wore  slowly  along  at  the  farm  on  the 
"Nole."  Barbara  each  day  went  industriously 
about  her  housework,  and  just  as  if  her  hus- 
band had  been  home  and  the  care  of  the  dairy 
was  still  necessary,  she  washed  and  rubbed  to 
a  polish  the  milk  pans,  and  stood  them  on  edge 

44 


Barbara  and  Dan  at  Home. 

upon  the  bench  at  the  side  of  the  woodshed,  to 
glisten  in  the  sun.  At  evening  time,  Andy's 
Dan  would  regularly  take  from  its  hiding-place 
on  the  sill  under  the  slanting  roof  of  the  milk- 
shed  the  crooked  staff,  and  whistling  for  his 
faithful  collie  dog,  go  down  the  lane  to  the 
pasture,  calling  to  the  imaginary  herd  of  cattle 
feeding  upon  the  sloping  hills,  then  sadly  re- 
turn with  the  one  lone  cow  reserved  by  Andy 
for  the  faithful  watchers  left  at  home.  The 
Summer  advanced,  and  he  mowed  the  grass 
and  weeds  from  the  dooryards  and  dug  down 
to  the  roots  of  the  pesky  burdocks  growing 
about  the  fences  which  inclosed  the  unused 
farmyards.  Then  as  Autumn  approached, 
poor  Andy's  Dan  silently  awaited  the  return  of 
his  beloved  brother  to  commence  again  at  har- 
vest time  the  duties  of  the  husbandman. 


CHAPTER  III. 


On  the  Way  to  the  Gold  Fields. 


A  year  passed  and  no  word  came  to  the  anx- 
ious hearts  in  the  home  Cameron  left  behind 
when  he  went  to  hunt  for  gold  in  the  far  west- 
ern wilds  of  the  British  Columbias. 

Taking  from  the  small  store  of  money  re- 
ceived from  the  sale  of  the  farm  stock,  just 
enough  to  pay  his  passage  to  the  terminus  of 
the  railroad,  still  a  few  hundred  miles  distant 
from  the  mountain  ranges  across  which  he  was 
to  make  his  way,  he  soon  found  himself  thrown 
upon  his  resources  face  to  face  with  the  diffi- 
culties of  the  undertaking.  Arriving  at  the 
mountain  pass  of  Ashcroft  from  Winnipeg, 
whence  he  and  several  other  venturesome  com- 
panions bent  upon  the  same  mission  had  come 
by  wagon  train  over  the  prairies  of  North- 
western Canada,  his  meagre  supply  of  money 
nearly  gone,  it  looked  as  if  he  was  about  to 

46 


On  the  Way  to  the  Gold  Fields. 

experience  a  defeat  from  the  very  first  set  of 
difficulties  which  arose  to  beset  his  way  in 
reaching  the  gold  fields. 

At  Ashcroft,  the  most  arduous  and  danger- 
ous mountain  climbing  of  the  entire  trail  pre- 
sents itself.  A  supply  of  food  for  days  must 
be  carried  along,  and  pack  mules  and  guides  at 
an  enormous  wage  are  an  absolute  necessity. 
Among  the  party  of  gold  seekers  which  in- 
cluded Cameron,  was  a  young  man  of  apparent 
culture  and  refinement,  also  from  one  of  the 
Eastern  provinces.  His  reason  for  being  found 
as  a  member  of  such  a  daring  and  reckless  band 
of  prospectors,  may  have  been  simply  for  the 
love  of  adventure,  perhaps  the  healing  of  a 
broken  heart,  or  for  the  committing  of  a  youth- 
ful indiscretion  considered  by  his  family  a  suf- 
ficient reason  for  sending  him  to  the  undiscov- 
ered gold  fields  of  the  far  West.  Thrown  to- 
gether during  the  tedious  voyage  of  the  pack 
train  across  the  plains,  a  natural  inclination,  a 
bond  of  sympathy,  had  brought  this  young,  in- 
experienced adventurer  and  Andy  Cameron, 
the  tender  hearted  but  determined  emigrant 
farmer,  into  a  congenial  acquaintance,  and  later 

47 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

into  forming  a  partnership.  The  personal  capi- 
tal .of  the  new  concern  when  inventoried 
showed  these  assets :  that  put  up  by  the  latter, 
courage,  strength,  determination  and  honesty, 
agajnst  that  of  his  companion,  money,  mules, 
provisions,  supplies,  and  himself  as  a  volunteer 
prospector.  With  this  understanding,  the 
somewhat  remarkable  partnership  was  formed, 
and  after  the  mules  were  packed,  the  climb 
over  the  mountains  began. 

Following  the  leadership  of  the  guides,  the 
small  company  made  their  way  slowly  over  the 
mountain  trails  and  around  the  edges  of  the 
precipices,  avoiding  only  by  careful  footing  a 
plunge  to  certain  death  below.  Sore  of  foot 
and  wearied  from  climbing,  the  two  prospec- 
tors arrived  at  Quesnell  Forks,  the  first  station 
in  the  long  tramp  to  the  Cassiar  district  of  the 
Cariboo  Mountains.  Joining  here  a  wagon 
train,  they  pushed  on  again  through  the  Chilco- 
ten  country.  Passing  Horse  Fly,  a  village  of 
a  vascillating  population,  they  then  proceeded 
up  Soda  Creek  till  the  aid  of  the  caravan  came 
abruptly  to  an  end.  Travel  by  that  method 
being  no  longer  possible,  Cameron  and  his 

48 


On  the  Way  to  the  Gold  Fields. 

companion  shouldered  their  rough  mining  kit 
and  taking  with  them  what  provisions  they 
could  carry,  struck  off  into  the  mountains  for 
a  hundred  miles  more,  down  through  ravines 
and  along  Slate  Creek  bottoms,  always  head- 
ing for  the  Cariboo.  Buoyed  up  by  the  secret 
motive  which  had  driven  each  to  endure  such 
hardships  in  their  hunt  for  the  golden  reward 
they  hoped  to  find  in  quantities  when  they 
should  reach  the  land  filled  with  Aladdin 
riches,  they  struggled  fearlessly  onward.  At 
the  head  of  Soda  Creek  they  had  labeled, 
their  surplus  supplies  and  stored  them  with  a 
friendly  native,  promising  to  pay  for  the  shelter, 
should  they  ever  return  that  way  again. 


49 


CHAPTER  IV. 


Lito  the  Cariboo  Mountains. 


Four  days  distant  from  this  camp,  Cameron 
and  his  companion  unloosed  their  mining1  kit 
for  the  first  time.  Nowhere  had  they  found 
any  evidences  that  human  beings  had  ever 
before  penetrated  into  this  region.  They 
climbed  the  steep  mountain  sides  only  to 
descend  again  through  the  darkest  ravines. 
Unaccustomed  to  the  points  of  the  compass, 
they  were  obliged  to  watch  their  course  by  the 
sun.  Each  with  his  secret  burning  within  his 
heart,  they  encountered  bravely  the  difficulties 
of  their  task.  Many  times  on  this  hazardous 
journey  they  were  almost  overcome  by  fatigue, 
and  often  saved  from  instant  death  over  the  side 
of  some  unseen  precipice  by  only  the  margin 

50 


Into  the  Cariboo  Mountains. 

of  a  step.  Finally,  as  they  emerged  from  the 
forest-clad  mountains  upon  a  slight  plateau, 
they  reached  the  first  slate  bottoms,  which  gave 
the  well-nigh  disheartened  prospectors  new 
courage,  and  the  first  view  of  the  uninterrupted 
rays  of  the  sun  that  they  had  encountered  since 
their  hunt  through  the  wilderness.  Here  on 
this  promontory,  which  sloped  gently  down 
westward  to  what  seemed  to  be  a  dried-up 
water  course,  Andy  and  his  companion  built 
their  miners'  cabin.  Water  they  had  discov- 
ered trickling  down  the  face  of  a  steep  rock  at 
one  side  of  the  site  they  had  chosen  for  their 
home.  And  game  they  knew  in  the  mountains 
was  plentiful,  for  at  their  approach  the  flight  of 
the  wild  fowl  had  shaken  the  overhanging 
branches  of  the  evergreens  and  strange-looking 
animals  scudded  beneath  the  underbrush  and 
sprang  into  hiding  behind  the  rocks  and 
boulders. 

Here  at  the  close  of  the  day,  standing  before 
the  door  of  their  rudely-constructed  hut,  the 
two  hopeful  miners,  already  fast  friends,  silent- 
ly watched  the  setting  of  the  sun.  Neither 
had  told  of  the  friends  left  at  home ;  Andy  had 

51 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

kept  sacred  within  his  heart  the  need,  the  in- 
centive, which  drove  him  forward  facing  the 
desperate  chances  of  death  by  starvation  or 
sickness,  to  discover  the  hidden  treasures  of 
this  almost  impenetrable  region,  and  his  com- 
panion was  equally  reticent  as  to  his  own  coun- 
sels of  the  past.  Willing  to  lead  in  the  trail 
where  almost  certain  death  seemed  ahead,  he 
had  proved  himself  many  times  in  their  short 
acquaintance  a  man  of  reckless  daring.  The 
look  each  encountered  in  the  other's  eyes  upon 
this  eve,  as  they  watched  the  sun  go  down  be- 
hind the  opposite  hills,  plainly  said :  "My  secret 
is  a  sacred  one;  ask  me  nothing." 

On  the  morrow  they  were  to  begin  their  task 
of  digging  for  the  yellow  nuggets,  in  the  search 
for  which  thousands  of  others  had  gone  into  the 
same  ranges,  many  to  join  the  bandit  gangs  of 
roving  miners,  never  again  to  return  to  their 
loved  ones,  others  to  sicken  and  die  with  the 
malignant  fevers  of  camp  life,  and  a  few — a 
very  few — to  realize  their  dreams,  and  return 
aerain  to  their  homes,  bearing  with  them  the 
shining  golden  nug-gets.  at  the  sight  of  which 
a  new  army  of  inspired  prospectors  would  soon 

52 


Into  the  Cariboo  Mountains. 

be  started  upon  its  way  to  repeat  the  same  acts 
in  the  great  drama  entitled  "The  Hunt  for 

Gold." 

****** 

And  here  we  leave  for  the  present,  Andy  and 
his  youthful  partner  to  dig  for  the  elusive  gold- 
en specks  which  had  drawn  them  onward  with 
a  terrible  fascination  for  thousands  of  miles. 
They  are  now  securely  hidden  away  in  the 
mountain  fastnesses  where  never  a  human 
voice  nor  the  tread  of  man  had  yet  fallen. 


53 


CHAPTER  V. 
cAt  the  Four  Corners. 


In  the  Arcadian  neighborhood  of  our  story, 
as  is  true  of  all  rural  sections,  there  are  at  the 
four  corners  of  the  road  the  indispensable 
blacksmith's  shop,  the  general  store,  the 
wheelright's  place  and  the  creamery  or  the 
cheese  factory.  As  places  of  business  they  al- 
ways flourish,  not  because  of  the  enterprise  or 
business  tact  of  the  proprietors,  but  because, 
for  the  most  part,  of  the  natural  demand 
created  by  the  wear  and  tear  of  implements 
used  in  pursuit  of  the  absolute  necessities  for 
the  maintenance  of  life  by  the  populace  of  the 
district. 

First,  at  the  four  corners  of  the  road  at  The 
Front,  and  a  short  distance  from  the  Cameron 

54 


At  the  Four  Corners. 

farms,  is  Davy  Simpson's  blacksmith  shop. 
Adjoining  this  is  the  wheelwright's  place.  The 
front  of  this  building  when  new  had  been  part- 
ly painted  a  dull  red  color,  and  then  left,  as 
though  the  workman  had  become  disgusted 
with  the  color  effect,  and  had  abandoned  the 
task  as  an  artist  might  a  shapeless  daub  on  a 
half-finished  canvas.  The  general  store,  with 
its  lean-to  porch,  up  to  which  the  farmers' 
wagons  drive  and  unload  their  produce  to  ex- 
change for  merchandise,  occupies  at  the  four 
corners  a  conspicuous  frontage  on  the  main 
road. 

Another  industry  ot  even  greater  moment  to 
the  community  at  The  Front  is  the  cheese  fac- 
tory, which  stands  just  past  the  corners  and 
fronting  the  road,  jagged  up  on  the  side  of  a 
steep  embankment,  and  resting  unsteadily  up- 
on crazy-looking  standards.  At  the  foot  of  the 
incline,  winding  in  its  very  uncertain  course,  is 
a  small  stream.  Into  this  the  whey,  escaping 
from  the  cheese  vats,  filters  down  the  abutment 
spiles,  reeking  in  the  Summer  sun,  to  be  gath- 
ered finally  into  the  stream,  whose  waters  push 
quietly  along  beneath  the  overhanging  weeds, 

55 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

then  crossing  the  roadway  extending  along  its 
course,  passes  in  the  rear  of  the  farms  of  the 
adjoining  township,  The  Gore. 

Unpretentious  and  surely  uninviting  is  the 
cheese  factory  at  The  Front,  but  in  local  his- 
tory, in  the  stories  of  the  feuds  waged  between 
the  clans  of  the  farmers  at  The  Front  and  those 
at  The  Gore,  it  plays  a  vitally  important  part, 
for  through  the  lands  of  the  latter  flow  the 
waters  of  the  whey-tainted  creek,  endangering 
the  products  of  their  dairies  by  polluting  the 
source  of  the  cattle's  water  supply. 

At  the  close  of  each  Summer's  day,  regu- 
larly assembled  in  front  of  the  door  to  Davy 
Simpson's  blacksmith  shop,  the  official  gossips 
of  the  neighborhood. 

Easy  is  the  task  to  picture  in  one's  mind  this 
group  of  characters.  Seated  around  the  door- 
way of  the  smithy,  and  perched  upon  the  cin- 
der heap,  an  accumulation  of  years  from 
Davy's  forge,  they  discussed  the  affairs  of  their 
neighborhood.  There  in  his  accustomed  place 
was  William  Fraser,  the  country  carpenter,  a 
bent-over,  round-shouldered  little  man  with  a 
fringe  of  red  whiskers  extending  from  ear  to 

56 


At  the  Four  Corners. 

ear  and  a  mustache  chopped  off  even  with  the 
mouth  as  if  done  by  a  carpenter's  adze ;  a  pair 
of  blue  eyes  peered  out  at  you  from  overhang- 
ing eyebrows,  and  when  in  motion  he  glided 
along  with  a  walk  of  meekness.  A  long  serv- 
ice among  the  families  in  Glengarry,  while 
building  for  them  a  new  barn  or  stable,  had 
taught  him  that  an  agreeable  opinion  to  what- 
ever were  their  politics  or  views  would  greatly 
facilitate  his  comfort  and  pleasure.  He  lis- 
tened intently  to  all  that  was  told  him  of  the 
family  troubles  of  his  employers,  and  with 
equal  interest  retailed  for  their  entertainment 
the  latest  gossip  of  their  neighbors.  It  was 
because  of  this  accomplishment  that  William 
Fraser,  the  carpenter,  could  always  be  relied 
upon  to  add  a  few  words  of  interest  to  any 
subject  up  for  discussion  at  the  shop. 

Another  familiar  figure  was  Angus  Fergu- 
son, he  who  had  bought  the  McDonald  place, 
next  to  the  cheese  factory,  a  well-meaning  and 
very  respectable  man,  whose  wife  insisted  that 
he  be  back  at  the  house  each  night  at  eight 
o'clock,  and  she  never  hesitated,  when  he  failed 
to  obey,  to  go  out  into  the  middle  of  the  road 

57 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

fronting  their  house,  and,  with  her  arms 
akimbo,  call  to  him  to  "come  away  home."  An- 
gus was  tall,  slender  and  awkward.  His  fea- 
tures were  kindly  and  the  mutton-chop  cut  to 
his  whiskers  and  his  high,  bald  forehead  gave 
him  more  the  look  of  a  clergyman  than  of  a 
Glengarry  farmer.  Angus  Fergrison  was  at 
all  times  a  listener  only  in  the  councils  before 
the  blacksmith's.  If  he  had  opinions,  he  never 
expressed  them,  and  when  his  time  would  ar- 
rive to  go,  without  a  good-night  wish  to  his 
companions  he  slid  down  from  the  plank 
placed  upon  the  coal  barrels,  which  was  his 
particular  seat,  and,  crushing  his  straw  hat 
down  upon  his  head,  started  up  the  road,  his 
long,  awkward  arms  and  legs  as  he  retreated 
through  the  darkness  making  a  pantomime 
figure  in  the  gathering  shadows. 

Old  Bill  Blakely  was  the  unique  figure  in 
these  nightly  councils  of  the  gossips.  He  came 
originally  from  no  one  knew  where;  was  not  of 
any  particular  descent ;  knew  no  religious  creed 
and  respected  no  forms  of  social  etiquette.  His 
remarks  at  the  discussions  held  before  the 
blacksmith's  shop  were  always  emphatic  and 

58 


At  the  Four  Corners. 

punctuated  with  copious  expectorations  from 
tobacco,  followed  by  a  line  of  adjectives  ad- 
mitting of  no  uncertain  meaning.  Old  Bill 
lived  at  quite  a  distance  from  the  meeting  place 
of  the  gossip  club  and  was  always  late  in  put- 
ting in  an  appearance.  He  was  never  counted 
upon,  though,  as  one  of  the  "regulars,"  and 
only  came  when  he  thought  there  might  be  a 
chance  of  picking  a  row  with  some  visitor  hap- 
pening along  from  The  Gore.  He  would  walk 
deliberately  into  the  councils  of  the  assembled 
habitues  at  the  shop,  and,  totally  ignoring  the 
courtesy  due  from  a  late  arrival,  would  proceed 
to  act  in  direct  violation  of  the  club's  estab- 
lished rules.  Looking  down  upon  the  group 
of  loungers,  his  blue  eyes  twinkling  and  his 
tobacco-moistened  lips  quivering  with  a  cynical 
smile,  he  would  steady  himself  by  placing  his 
legs  at  a  wide  angle  apart,  the  yellow-stained 
goatee  of  his  chin  bobbing  an  accompaniment 
to  the  twitching  of  his  tightly-compressed 
mouth. 

"Well,"  he  would  begin,  "hae  ye  lied  all 
there  is  to  tell  aboot  your  neighbors,  William 
Fraser?  And  you,  Angus,"  motioning  with 

59 


The  House  of  Cariboo* 

his  head  toward  down  the  road,  "had  better 
gang  your  way  home,  fer  I'm  goin'  to  Jick  the 
first  red-head  that  comes  over  from  Xhe  Gore, 
the  night." 

Then  Bill  would  let  go  a  string  of  oaths  that 
invariably  brought  the  frowning  face  of  Davy 
Simpson  from  out  of  the  darkness  of  the  shop 
to  greet  the  newcomer.  Dave  at  such  times 
had  nothing  more  to  say  than,  "Bill,  that's  you, 
I  see," — but  all  was  in  the  way  he  said  it.  The 
two  men  appeared  to  understand  each  other 
very  well,  at  least  they  did  since  the  time  Dave 
ducked  the  incorrigible  Bill  head-first  into  the 
puncheon  of  water  by  the  side  of  the  forge, 
just  to  show,  as  he  said,  that  there  was  no  ill- 
feeling  between  them. 

Bill's  hair  was  as  white  as  that  of  any  patri-' 
arch  the  county  could  boast :  as  an  excuse  for 
a  cap  he  wore  a  faded  brown  affair,  whose 
shapeless  peak  was  as  often  pointed  ;sidewise 
and  backward  as  it  was  straight  ahead.  Al- 
ways blinking  with  a  mischievous  twinkle'  in: 
his  eyes,  his  lips  moistened  with  the  tobacco 
he  was  so  fond  of  chewing,  and  quivering"  as 
though  He  were  about  to  address  a  remark  to 

60 


At  the  Four  Comers. 

you,  his  hands  pushed  down  deep  into  his 
pockets,  his  square  shoulders  and  well-rounded 
body  supported  by  a  stocky  pair  of  legs, — im- 
agine all  this,  and  you  will  see  Bill  Blakely. 

For  many  Summers  the  feud  of  the  creek 
existing  between  the  men  of  the  two  towns 
required  the  personal  attention  and  made  fre- 
quent claims  upon  the  fistic  powers  of  Blakely. 
All  the  trouble  had  been  caused  by  the  whey- 
tainted  waters  of  the  creek,  which  menaced  the 
dairies  of  the  men  at  The  Gore.  Chuckling 
with  great  glee,  old  Bill  would  listen  to  his 
neighbors  repeat  the  story  current  over  at  The 
Gore,  how  upon  a  certain  dark  night  he 
(Blakely)  had  pulled  the  plug  from  the  whey- 
tank  at  the  cheese  factory  on  The  Front  and 
allowed  its  soured  contents  to  course  slowly 
down  through  the  stream.  In  the  controver- 
sies with  his  enemies  following  the  perpetra- 
tion of  these  midnight  escapades  at  tHe  four 
corners  Bill  Blakely  had  heretofore  by  his1  con- 
vincing arguments  successfully  'combatted 
their  charge.  After  one  of  these  discussions 
with  him  the  men  from  The  Gore  returned  to 
their  clansmen  bearing  to  them,  besides  a  pair 

61 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

of  discolored  optics,  the  best  wishes  of  the  men 
at  The  Front. 

But  of  late  the  tables  seemed  to  be  turning. 
A  new  condition  of  affairs  had  developed,  and 
the  arguments  which  hitherto  had  stood  Blake- 
ly  in  critical  times  successfully  failed  now  to 
give  him  the  same  degree  of  satisfaction  over 
his  foes  from  The  Gore. 


-w*  -• 


62 


CHAPTER  VI. 
Donald  Visits  the  Gossip  Club. 

Up  to  this  time  the  absence  of  Andy  Cam- 
eron from  The  Front  formed  only  a  topic  of 
minor  discussion  before  the  smithy's.  It  was 
on  one  of  the  evenings  which  marked  the  end 
of  the  outdoor  sessions  of  the  gossip  club 
when  Laughing  Donald  presented  himself 
shyly  at  the  outskirts  of  the  group.  Weeks  had 
elapsed  since  he  had  appeared  there  before. 
Until  of  late,  each  night  of  the  weary  months 
and  years  of  waiting  for  the  return  of  the  ab- 
sent brother,  he  had  haunted  the  blacksmith's 
shop,  where  the  group  of  news-gatherers  met 
to  exchange  notes.  At  first  they  welcomed 
him  as  a  valuable  addition  to  their  circle. 
William  Fraser,  the  carpenter,  found  in  him  an 

63 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

attentive  listener  to  the  "small  talk"  he  gath- 
ered from  the  country  side.  The  remarks 
Donald  overheard  upon  his  early  visits  at  the 
four  corners  concerning  his  family  he  carried 
to  his  invalid  wife,  and  then  to  Barbara  and 
Dan  up  at  the  Nole. 

Upon  this  night  he  came  slowly  down  the  hill 
along  the  road  which  partially  hid  the  black- 
smith's shop  from  view.  The  group  around 
the  smithy's  door  was  surprised  at  his  coming. 
The  timid  nature  of  the  man  showed  itself  in 
each  hesitating  step,  while  in  his  large,  fawn- 
like  eyes  was  an  appealing  look,  as  if  he  were 
a  pet  animal  wishing  to  be  taken  by  his  master 
from  the  tormenting  pranks  of  a  gang  of 
youthful  bandits.  In  his  nervous  excitement 
Donald  always  laughed — not  loudly,  but  in 
showing  his  perfect,  white  teeth,  he  gurgled 
softly  the  sound  which  was  responsible  for  the 
distinguishing  feature  of  his  name  in  Glen- 
garry, Laughing  Donald. 

"Well !  if  here  ain't  Laughing  Donald,"  ex- 
claimed Fraser,  the  carpenter,  in  an  insinuating 
whisper,  and  a  hush  fell  upon  the  group.  "I 
•wonder  if  he  would  like  to  know,"  he  con- 

64 


Donald  Visits  the  Gossip  Club. 

tinued,  in  an  undertone,  "that  Nick  Perkins, 
the  tax  collector,  says  all  the  Camerons  on  The 
Front  will  be  working  the  'county  farm'  in  six 
months'  time  ?"  At  that  moment  a  large,  curly 
head,  crowned  by  the  remnants  of  a  straw  hat, 
was  protruded  through  the  jamb  of  the  half- 
opened  door  of  the  shop. 

"Well,  now,  you  just  be  the  first  to  tell  that 
to  Donald,"  drawled  out  Davy,  the  blacksmith, 
looking  straight  at  the  cringing  little  carpen- 
ter, "and  I'll  crimp  your  red  whiskers  with  the 
hot  tongs  of  my  forge."  Here  was  a  friend  to 
Donald  and  the  missing  Andy,  till  now  unan- 
nounced. No  end  of  gossiping  by  the  tattler 
of  the  neighborhood  had  failed  to  prejudice  the 
mind  of  the  honest  smith. 

Angus  Ferguson  had  already  humped  off 
from  his  seat  upon  the  coal  puncheon,  and  with 
his  awkward  strides  was  making  rapidly  to- 
ward the  scared  Donald,  extending  his  hand 
in  such  an  enthusiastic  welcome  that  the  poor 
fellow  nearly  mistook  the  demonstration  for 
one  of  unfriendliness.  "How  de  doo,  Donald ! 
I  am  a-goin'  to  tell  you  I  am  a-comin'  over  to- 
morrow to  help  ye  draw  in  that  grain  over 

65 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

yonder  by  the  woods.  It's  been  there  now 
nigh  onto  two  weeks  in  the  sun." 

"Is  it  dry,  Angus,  think  ye?"  inquired  Don- 
ald, brightening  at  the  show  of  friendship. 
Then  an  awkward  silence  followed. 

"Got  a  new  horse,  Donald,"  blurted  out 
Angus. 

"Aye,"  returned  Donald,  the  broad  grin  cov- 
ering his  face. 

"Want  to  see  him?"  urged  Angus.  Then 
they  both  started  down  the  road  like  the  two 
overgrown  country  lads  that  they  were.  This 
spontaneous  act  of  kindness  by  Ferguson  was 
prompted  by  his  heart's  sympathy,  which  had 
been  penned  up  for  weeks,  rebelling  constantly 
against  the  insinuating  remarks  repeated  by 
the  carpenter. 

Fraser  nursed  his  displeasure  alone.  Angus 
Ferguson,  the  silent,  had  outwitted  him.  Davy 
Simpson  had  exposed  his  deceitfulness,  and  in 
a  short  time  his  supposed  strength  as  a  member 
of  the  gossip  club  had  crumbled  in  a  humiliat- 
ing climax. 

At  that  moment,  as  he  was  regretfully  ac- 
knowledging to  himself  the  failure  he  had 

66 


Donald  Visits  the  Gossip  Club. 

made  in  gaining-  the  confidence  and  respect  of 
his  associates,  his  attention  was  drawn  to  a 
familiar  vehicle  which  had  approached  silently 
in  the  gathering  darkness,  and  now  stood  in 
the  roadway  before  the  blacksmith's  shop. 
"Good-evening,  William  Fraser,"  began  Nich- 
olas Perkins  (for  it  was  the  polite  tax  gath- 
erer, who  lived  near  The  Gore),  and  Fraser 
walked  out  with  his  meekest  walk  to  the  side 
of  the  wagon.  Perkins  patronized  the  shop 
over  at  The  Gore,  and  like  all  the  rest  from 
his  town,  halting  before  Davy's  place,  kept 
upon  neutral  ground,  remaining  in  the  middle 
of  the  road. 

"Fraser,  I  am  told,"  continued  Perkins,  as 
he  hitched  himself  along  to  the  end  of  the 
wagon  seat  and  leaned  out  over  the  wheel,  to 
strike  a  confidential  attitude,  "that  there  is  no 
news  from  Cameron." 

"Well,  that's  about  true,  Mr.  Perkins;  no 
news,  and  they  say  that  the  mortgage  time  is 
about  up,  too."  A  little  more  encouragement, 
and  the  carpenter's  sympathies  were  at  once 
enlisted  with  the  newcomer. 

"Well,  it's  very  bad,  isn't  it,  Fraser?    They 

67 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

have  been  left  to  go  to  the  poorhouse.  We 
didn't  think  that  of  Cameron  over  at  The 
Gore,  but,  then,  the  expense  will  fall  on  your 
town,  on  The  Front,  of  course,"  said  Perkins, 
turning  to  get  the  full  effect  of  his  wise  remark 
upon  Fraser. 

The  two  deceitful  maligners  were  uncon- 
scious of  the  presence  of  a  figure  which  had 
come  stealthily  upon  them  in  the  darkness,  and 
standing  in  the  shadow  of  the  vehicle,  was  now 
listening  to  the  conversation. 

"Well,  you  ought  to  know,  Mr.  Perkins," 
replied  the  carpenter  in  a  patronizing  tone. 
"You  will  probably  have  the  say  in  what  will 
have  to  be  done," — but  before  he  could  finish 
his  remark,  he  had  leaped  into  the  air,  precipi- 
tated upon  the  toe  of  a  heavy  boot. 

"Oh,  he  will  have  the  say  about  whom  they 
take  to  the  county  farm,  will  he!"  and  Bill 
Blakely  danced  in  a  howling  rage  around  the 
wagon  of  his  hated  foe.  "You  hypocrite !  You 
prowling  tax-gatherer!  You  hunter  of  the 
weak  and  homeless !"  he  yelled,  and  half  climb- 
ing into  the  wagon,  he  shook  his  fist  in  the 
face  of  the  surprised  tax  collector,  shouting 

68 


•  •  Now.  Nick  Perkins,  if  you  have  got  anything  to  say  to  me  person- 
ally, just  come  down  here  in  the  road  and  I'll  talk  to  you.'   ' 


Donald  Visits  the  Gossip  Club. 

right  into  his  ear,  "Not  while  Bill  Blakely  lives, 
and  Andy  Cameron  is  away  from  The  Front 
will  you  ever  hitch  your  ring-boned  and  spa- 
vined outfit  to  a  post  before  the  home  of  a 
Cameron  on  The  Front !  Now,  Nick  Perkins, 
if  you  have  got  anything  to  say  to  me  per- 
sonally, just  come  down  here  in  the  road  and 
I'll  talk  to  you."  Bill  was  rolling  up  his  ging- 
ham shirt  sleeves  and  again  dancing  around 
bear  fashion,  while  the  discomfiture  of  the  as- 
tonished Perkins  was  being  hugely  enjoyed  by 
the  group,  now  enlarged  by  the  return  of  An- 
gus Ferguson  and  Laughing  Donald.  Davy 
Simpson  stood  in  the  door  of  his  shop  watch- 
ing the  proceedings  over  the  rims  of  his  spec- 
tacles. 

"Oh,  you  ain't  a-comin'  down,  be  you !  Well, 
I  didn't  expect  you,"  retorted  Bill.  "Your  kind 
fight  the  women  only.  You're  sneaking 
around  now  to  see  if  they  ain't  a-gettin'  hun- 
gry, some  on  'em  over  here.  But  we'll  fool 
you,  Perkins.  Laughing  Donald  is  a  better 
man  dead  than  anything  you  can  produce  alive 
in  your  hull  county  at  The  Gore.  And  Andy 
Cameron  won't  let  the  wind  blow  a  whiff  of  ye 

69 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

to  the  lee  side  of  his  place  when  he  comes  back, 
neither.  And  that  won't  be  long  from  now," 
and  old  Bill  threw  his  quid  of  tobacco  after 
the  retreating  wheels  of  the  vehicle  as  Perkins 
drove  away  amid  the  jeering  laughter  of  the 
group. 

As  soon  as  the  tax  gatherer  was  out  of  hear- 
ing distance,  Bill  turned  to  Donald,  and  in  a 
tone  serious  for  him,  said,  "Donald,  I  am  a- 
speakin'  fer  you.  The  Camerons  are  from 
The  Front.  Your  brother  Andy  is  a  good 
man ;  he  is  a  friend  of  mine.  He  will  be  back 
soon,  for  that  I  am  telling  ye.  William  Fra- 
ser,  the  carpenter,  he's  been  telling  ye  what 
'they  say.'  Tell  yer  wife,  Donald,  when  ye  go 
home,  what  I  say,  what  Davy  says,  and  what 
Angus'  wife  says  for  him  to  say,  and  don't 
you  worry  about  the  mortgage."  Then  Bill 
went  over  to  the  shop  door,  and  they  thought 
he  was  going  to  confide  something  to  Davy,  but 
he  hesitated,  finally  bit  off  an  enormous  quid  of 
tobacco  and  sauntered  slowly  down  the  road 
homeward. 

Donald  climbed  the  little  hill  by  the  shop, 
going  away  happier  than  he  had  been  in 

70 


Donald  Visits  the  Gossip  Club. 

months.  Angus  Ferguson  still  stood  in  the  road 
watching  him;  then,  looking  behind  him  and 
catching  sight  of  the  carpenter  closing  the  door 
to  the  wheelwright  shop,  he  turned  his  face  to 
the  open  meadow  at  the  opposite  side  of  the 
road,  and  slamming  his  straw  hat  down  upon 
his  head,  struck  into  his  rapid  circular  gait 
down  the  road,  past  the  cheese  factory  toward 
his  home. 

The  quietness  outside  seemed  unusual.  Davy 
looked  out  of  his  shop  door,  scanned  the  cin- 
der heap,  glanced  at  the  puncheon  seat,  then 
at  the  wagon  parts :  nothing  was  moving,  noth- 
ing was  doing,  all  was  darkness.  The  club 
had  gone.  He  closed  the  door,  put  the  bar 
across  the  staple,  inserted  the  padlock,  turned 
the  key,  then  climbed  the  hillside  to  the  back 
door  of  his  house ;  his  day's  labors  were  done. 


71 


CHAPTER  VII. 


In  the  Mining  Camp. 


Time  has  sped  all  too  swiftly  at  the  little 
mining  camp  in  the  Cariboo  Valley.  There  is 
now  only  a  month  left  of  the  two  years  set  by 
Andy  Cameron  for  his  return  to  his  family, 
and  all  indications  thus  far  point  to  a  tragic 
ending  for  the  ambitions  and  loves  of  the  un- 
fortunate Glengarry  farmer. 

All  this  while  the  two  persistent  miners  had 
worked  with  an  unlessened  zeal  at  their  un- 
productive diggings.  Each  night,  by  turn,  one 
took  from  the  sluices  the  ore  while  the  other 
climbed  the  hill  overlooking  the  scene  of  their 
daily  toils  and  cooked  before  the  cabin  door  the 
simple  evening  meal.  Many  times  since  their 
coming  into  this  mountain-locked  valley  had 

72 


In  the  Mining  Camp. 

the  prospectors  shifted  the  site  of  their  gold 
diggings,  but  to  the  little  cabin,  which  stood 
at  the  foot  of  the  steep  rock  looking  down  into 
the  gulch,  they  clung,  held  fast  by  many  en- 
dearing associations.  Edmond  LeClare, — for 
that  was  the  name  of  Cameron's  associate — 
had  made  a  few  excursions  up  the  valley  to  an- 
other camp  of  prospectors,  who  had  come  into 
the  hills  farther  to  the  north,  soon  after  he  and 
Cameron  had  settled  upon  their  claim,  now 
safely  marked  from  intruders  by  the  evidence 
of  their  active  operations.  With  these  new 
friends  LeGare  arranged  that  for  an  exchange 
in  gold  dust  he  was  to  obtain  from  them  the 
needed  supplies  of  bacon  and  flour  to  replenish 
from  time  to  time  the  cuisine  department  of 
their  household. 

Each  night  before  the  door  of  their  cabin 
the  miners  discussed  the  possibilities  of  their 
undertaking.  Perhaps  it  was  that  they  builded 
their  hopes  upon  the  returns  from  a  certain 
new  lead  they  had  struck  in  the  mountain's 
side.  The  deposits  of  gold  taken  from  the 
sluices  that  day,  if  they  should  continue  to  be 
found,  would  surely  bring  to  them  the  wealth 

73 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

each  sought  so  diligently.  But  alas,  upon  ex- 
ploiting to  the  finish  each  newly  discovered 
vein  of  ore,  the  hopes  of  the  unlucky  miners 
tumbled  as  did  the  castles  builded  by  them  with 
the  toy  blocks  of  their  childhood. 

Not  a  word  of  complaint  was  uttered  by 
Andy  in  the  presence  of  his  companion.  His 
disappointment  over  the  failure  to  obtain  the 
coveted  wealth  with  which  he  had  hoped  to  re- 
deem his  home  and  the  happiness  of  his  wife 
and  family  was  hidden  within  the  recesses  of 
his  own  breast,  though  to  the  watchful  eyes  of 
the  sympathetic  Edmond  the  wretched  straits 
into  which  his  friend  had  been  thrust  by  the  yet 
unprofitable  workings  of  their  gold  diggings 
were  as  easy  to  read  as  though  they  had  been 
in  print  upon  the  pages  of  an  open  book. 
While  Andy  toiled  to  live  and  preserve  his  hap- 
piness, LeClare  worked  and  courted  hardships 
and  discouragements  to  deaden  the  misery 
of  his  soul.  He  had  hidden  his  secret  well, 
but  with  Andy,  as  the  end  of  the  time  of  their 
compact  approached,  the  heart-breaking  lack  of 
success,  the  fading  hope  of  his  cherished 
dream  of  wealth,  the  thought  of  having  only 

74 


In  the  Mining  Camp. 

a  bitter  tale  of  failure  to  bear  back  to  his  faith- 
ful wife,  Barbara, — each  one  of  these  emotions 
had  stamped  their  relentless  impress  upon  his 
honest,  bronzed  face,  and  while  not  a  word  had 
passed  between  the  two  prospectors  on  the  sub- 
ject ever  uppermost  in  the  thoughts  of  each,  yet 
for  Edmond  LeClare,  the  unhappy  plight  of  his 
companion  was  now  the  daily  inspiration  which 
drove  him  on  in  renewed  efforts. 

A  few  days  more,  thought  Cameron,  and  he 
should  tell  his  friend  all.  Then  they  must 
divide  the  paltry  store  of  gold  dust  between 
them,  and  sadly  at  their  parting  and  with  a 
broken  heart  he  would  retrace  his  steps  as  best 
he  could  to  his  home  at  The  Front,  and  there 
tell  of  his  disappointment. 

Thus  Cameron  argued  as  he  sat  upon  the 
wood  block  before  the  cabin  stirring  the  fire, 
cooking  the  evening  meal.  He  had  thrown 
upon  the  coals  some  dry  branches,  and  through 
the  gray  smoke  which  enveloped  him  he  saw 
the  figure  of  his  companion  coming  toward  him 
up  the  hill.  "He  is  early,"  thought  Andy,  and 
he  looked  again,  stepping  aside  out  of  the 
blinding  smoke.  Edmond  had  paused  down 

75 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

the  hill  a  few  rods  from  the  cabin,  his  right 
hand  behind  him,  his  head  thrown  back  and 
eyes  wide  open,  glaring  with  excitement. 

"Speak,  Edmond !"  gasped  Cameron.  "Speak 
to  me,  boy.  My  God,  speak !  What  have  you 
behind  your  back?  It's  gold!  gold! — I  know 
it!"  Rushing  together,  the  two  companions 
sobbed  in  each  other's  arms. 

"Look,  Andy!"  cried  LeClare,  through  his 
tears  of  joy.  "There  are  two  of  them,"  and 
he  held  up  nuggets  of  gold  larger  than  their 
combined  fists,  "and  there  are  plenty  more  of 
them  in  the  same  spot  where  these  came  from." 

Poor  Andy  sobbed  in  his  happiness  upon  the 
shoulder  of  his  mining  partner,  and  then, 
clutching  him  by  the  arm  as  though 
awakening  from  a  dream,  he  half  sobbed,  half 
cried :  "He  won't  get  them  now,  Edmond ;  he 
won't  get  them  now !  Laughing  Donald  stays 
on  where  he  is,  and  his  invalid  wife  will  have  a 
servant  to  wait  on  her.  And  Barbara — my 
wife,  Edmond,  my  wife,  do  you  hear? — she 
shall  have  a  new  silk  dress,  a  new  straw  bonnet. 
Edmond,  with  red  posies  in  it,  and  a  new  yarn 
carpet  to  put  in  the  parlor,  my  boy.  And  you 

76 


"  •  Speak.  Edniond  ! '  gasped  Cameron.    '  What  have  you  behind  your 
back  ?    It's  gold  I  gold  !— I  know  it  ' '  " 


In  the  Mining  Camp. 

shall  come  and  live  at  The  Nole.  You  and 
Dan  can  go  fishing,  rain  or  shine,  and  I  will 
get  my  lawyer  friend  from  the  village  to  come 
out  and  see  us;  I'll  hire  a  carriage  for  him, 
too,  Edmond.  And  Nick  Perkins,  the  tax  col- 
lector  "  Then,  at  the  mention  of  that  name, 

Cameron  slowly  regained  his  composure,  and  a 
stern,  cold  look  passed  over  his  features. 
"What  day  of  the  month  did  you  say  it  was, 
Edmond?"  He  had  lowered  his  voice  almost 
to  a  whisper.  Then,  as  LeClare  answered,  he 
continued :  "The  time  will  soon  be  up.  To- 
morrow, Edmond,  to-morrow  we  must  start  for 
home — to-morrow  we  must  go." 

LeClare  half  carried  his  companion,  who  was 
exhausted  by  the  excitement  over  the  discov- 
ery, to  the  seat  by  the  cabin  door.  The  sun  had 
now  gone  down  behind  the  mountain  opposite, 
and  in  the  autumn  glow  of  this  golden  sunset, 
alone  with  their  Maker,  they  offered  a  silent 
prayer  over  their  evening  meal. 

The  miners  sat  facing  each  other  at  their 
scant  repast.  Their  menu,  at  all  times  limited, 
had  now  become  stale  and  unappetizing.  The 
salted  meats  and  hard,  dried  breadstuffs,  to 

77 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

which  was  added  the  badly  mixed  coffee,  would 
no  longer  suffice. 

"We  are  rich,  Andy,"  laughed  LeClare. 
"We  haven't  much  to  boast  about  on  top  of 
the  table,  but  there's  a  hundred  thousand  be- 
neath it,  old  fellow,  and  in  the  morning  I  will 
show  you  a  crevice  in  the  rocks  down  there  on 
the  side  hill  where  there's  twice  as  much  more 
as  we  have  here  waiting  for  you  to  take  it  out." 

Cameron  was  at  once  happy  and  sad.  Now 
that  the  great  wealth  in  gold  had  been  found, 
his  thoughts  of  home  were  strangely  affecting 
him.  "Two  years,"  he  murmured  over  and 
over  again  to  himself.  "Could  his  wife,  Bar- 
bara, have  kept  their  little  colony  together 
during  his  absence  ?  Had  Nick  Perkins,  the 
money  lender,  harassed  his  brother  Donald  or 
annoyed  Barbara  for  the  payment  of  interest 
money,  or  could  any  of  his  beloved  have  died  ?" 
A  shudder  at  this  thought  shook  his  frame. 
Looking-  across  the  table  he  encountered  the 
kind,  inquiring  smile  on  the  face  of  his  com- 
panion. ."You  are  corning  with  me,  my  boy. 
Edmond,  this  is  no  place  for  you ;"  but  he  saw 
the  smile  on  the  handsome,  youthful  face  before 

78 


In  the  Mining  Camp* 

him  fade  into  an  expression  of  sorrow.  "Cheer 
up,"  he  continued.  "I  have  no  fine  words  for 
telling  you  what  it's  in  my  heart  to  say,  but, 
though  you  never  have  told  me  why  you  came 
out  here,  I  know  you  could  never  have  done- 
wrong  to  anybody,  and  to  Barbara's  home  and 
mine  you  are  welcome  as  long  as  you  can  find*' 
it  comfortable."  Tears  were  in  the  eyes  of  the 
two  strong  men,  but  the  darkness  had  hidden 
the  signs  of  their  emotions. 

"Why,  Andy,  my  old  friend,  I  have  never 
told  you,  have  I?"  suddenly  exclaimed 
LeClare. 

"No,  I  guess  you  never  did,"  replied  Andy- 


79 


CHAPTER   VIII. 


LeClare's  Story :  The  Initialed  Tree. 


''It's  only  a  boy  and  girl  story,  but,  all  the 
same,  that's  why  I've  been  a  gold  digger.  At 
our  first  meeting  on  the  plains  I  said  I  was 
from  the  Eastern  provinces.  That  was  all  right 
for  the  time.  The  truth  happens  to  be,  though, 
that  our  native  homes  are  separated  only  by 
the  fifteen  miles  of  intervening  water  channels 
of  the  Archipelago.  When  you  look  to  the 
southward  from  your  farm  on  The  Front, 
across  the  great  expanse  of  water,  dotted  here 
and  there  with  wooded  islands,  and  then  ex- 
tend the  view  to  the  sloping  sides  of  the  irreg- 
ular mountain  range  which  meets  the  eye,  you 
may  perhaps  see  there,  reposing  sleepily  upon 
the  banks  of  the  winding  Salmon,  a  small 

80 ' 


LeClare's  Story:  The  Initialed  Tree. 

American  village.  Four  miles  down  the  river, 
after  traversing  for  the  full  distance  the  cran- 
berry marshes  of  Arcadia,  its  waters  are 
gathered  into  one  of  the  nearest  channels  of 
the  St.  Lawrence.  The  approach  is  so  unpre- 
tentious that  the  coming  of  its  added  volume 
is  only  recognized  by  the  idler  drifting  in  his 
canoe  along  the  shores  of  the  Archipelago 
from  the  blue  and  gray  color  line  made  by  the 
mingling  of  the  waters.  For  it  is  just  here  at 
this  line  that  the  now  docile  mountain  cataracts 
of  the  Adirondacks  are  greeted  by  the  tur- 
quoise-blue waters  flowing  seaward  from  the 
Great  Lakes. 

"In  Darrington,  this  village  on  the  Salmon, 
lived  Lucy  Maynard.  Two  miles  to  the  east- 
ward, upon  one  of  the  fertile  farms  in  the  val- 
ley of  the  St.  Lawrence,  was  my  home.  There 
I  was  taught  the  law  of  the  Ten  Command- 
ments, living  in  the  midst  of  sunshine  and 
happiness  and  blest  with  the  love  of  a  devoted 
father  and  mother.  This  is  only  a  childish  ro- 
mance, Andy,  and  perhaps  you  don't  care  to 
hear  it." 

"Go  on,  Edmond,"  came  the  reply.     "You 

81 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

know  my  story.    Now  tell  me  yours." 

"At  the  age  of  seventeen  I  had  been  con- 
sidered by  my  parents  a  graduate  from  the  dis- 
trict school,  and  at  the  beginning  of  the  Autumn 
term  I  was  entered  in  the  intermediate  grade 
of  the  high  school  up  in  the  village  of  Dar- 
lington. This  was  an  auspicious  event  in  my 
hitherto  uneventful  career.  Living  always 
upon  the  farm,  my  playmates  and  acquaint- 
ances were  of  the  neighboring  farm  children. 
Tramping  the  same  way  to  the  district  school- 
house,  we  had  pelted  the  croaking  frogs  in  the 
ditches  by  the  roadside,  and  fired  stones  at  the 
rows  of  swallows  swinging  upon  the  telegraph 
wires,  and  in  the  season  we  picked  the  daisies 
from  the  nearby  fields,  handing  them  roughly, 
almost  rudely,  to  the  girl  of  our  choice  amongst 
the  strolling  group  of  school  children  ;  while  in 
the  Autumn,  in  the  groves  by  the  roadside,  we 
hurled  sticks  high  into  the  chestnut  trees,  then 
scrambled  upon  our  hands  and  knees  at  a 
lucky  throw  we  had  made,  each  to  pocket  his 
catch.  Simple  and  healthful  were  our  sports. 
Barefooted  we  stubbed  our  toes  in  the  game 
of  'tag*  and  at  ball  games  in  'Three  Old  Cats/ 

82 


LeClare's  Story:  The  Initialed  Tree. 

where  'over  the  fence  is  out.'  We  were  each 
a  star  player  of  the  national  game.  Happy 
children  of  the  country,  Andy,  primitive  in 
thought,  with  gentle  rural  manners,  acquired 
in  the  religious  homes  of  a  Scotch  Presbyterian 
settlement.  Once  a  week  upon  the  Sunday, 
since  childhood,  I  attended  with  my  father  and 
mother  the  church  at  Darrington,  and  there 
wistfully,  shyly,  I  looked  across  the  high  backs 
of  the  family  pews  at  the  children  of  the  vil- 
lagers. In  my  childish  mind  their  lot  in  life 
was  greatly  to  be  envied  and  admired,  com- 
pared with  mine.  Their  'store'  clothes  and 
their  pert,  familiar  manner  placed  them  in  my 
estimation  so  far  above  my  station  in  the  social 
scale  that  my  deference  toward  them  amounted 
to  something  like  worship. 

"In  one  of  the  family  seats,  across  and  sev- 
eral pews  advanced  from  ours,  moving  rest- 
lessly about  between  her  father  and  mother, 
was  a  handsome,  large-eyed  child,  forever  look- 
ing backward,  and,  of  course  I  fancied,  often 
glancing  in  my  direction.  She  was  Lucy  May- 
nard.  For  years,  and  until  I  entered  the  vil- 
lage high  school,  we  had  seen  each  other  upon 

83 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

Sundays,  across  the  backs  of  the  seats,  never 
a  word  from  either,  nor  a  smile  of  recognition, 
Lucy's  large,  brown  eyes  looking  toward  me  as 
she  knelt  on  her  knees  upon  the  seat ;  then,  as 
I  returned  her  wistful  gaze,  she  would  sink 
slowly  down  upon  her  mother's  shoulder,  bury- 
ing her  face  from  view.  I  saw  her  grow  to  be 
a  young  lady,  a  village  lady;  she  saw  me  an 
awkward  country  boy.  In  childhood  I  dared 
to  return  her  glances.  As  a  boy  of  seventeen, 
when  I  found  myself  that  autumn  in  the  village 
high  school,  in  the  same  class  with  the  girl 
always  before  me  in  my  youthful  day  dreams, 
I  had  not  the  courage  even  to  look  in  the  di- 
rection of  the  seat  which  she  occupied. 

"Everything  seemed  strange  to  me,  Andy.  I 
knew  nothing  in  common  with  the  village  boys. 
They  played  ball  differently;  they  called  their 
game  of  'hide  and  seek'  by  another  name,  and 
they  didn't  even  throw  stones  at  a  mark  as  we 
had  done  in  the  country.  Some  of  the  boys 
tolerated  my  backwardness  and  others  turned 
up  their  noses  at  my  awkward  attempts  at  being 
agreeable.  But  one  silent  champion  I  fdt  I 
always  had  during  those  first  weeks  of  my  in- 

84 


LeClare's  Story:  The  Initialed  Tree* 

troduction  into  that  school.  Standing  near  in 
the  hallways,  with  others  girls  in  our  class,  at 
recess,  Lucy  Maynard,  with  that  soulful  look 
from  those  large,  brown  eyes,  reproved  the  boy 
whose  rude  remark  was  aimed  at  the  defense- 
less, or  the  one  slowest  at  repartee  in  the  gossip 
under  discussion. 

"A  few  weeks  of  the  Autumn  term  had 
passed,  and  the  class  in  mathematics  had  been 
requested  to  remain  after  the  grades  had  been 
dismissed,  to  receive  further  instruction  from 
the  professor.  A  board  walk  extends  the  full 
length  of  the  campus  from  the  school-house, 
ending  in  a  turnstile  at  the  street.  The  class 
dismissed,  I  hurried  out  of  the  building. 
Rustling  behind  me  in  a  quick  step  came  a 
young  lady.  I  knew  instinctively  it  was  Lucy. 

"  'Don't  you  think  it  is  about  time  you  had 
something  to  say  to  me,  Mr.  LeClare?'  she  said, 
as  she  came  beside  me.  'I  won't  think  you  are 
a  bit  nice  if  you  go  on  like  this.'  I  felt  my  face 
turning  red,  and  I  forgot  everything  I  had 
learned  a  thousand  times  before  to  say  to  her. 
Then  I  begged  her  pardon  for  nearly  stepping 
upon  her,  and  I  felt  that  I  was  about  to  col- 

85 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

lapse.  The  turnstile  came  to  my  assistance, 
and,  as  Lucy  lived  in  an  opposite  direction 
from  that  in  which  I  had  to  go,  we  parted.  I 
had  regained  enough  of  my  scattered  senses, 
though,  to  thank  her  for  having  spoken  to  me. 

"The  Winter  term  of  school  had  come  and 
gone,  and  the  Summer  closing  was  at  hand. 
The  other  boys  in  my  class  had  soon  overlooked 
my  misfortune,  as  they  considered  it,  of  having 
lived  in  the  country,  and  I  was  proud  of  the 
devotion  of  Lucy,  whose  name  was  now  paired 
off  with  mine,  as  were  the  other  boys  and  girls 
paired  off  in  our  same  class.  To  celebrate  the 
close  of  the  school,  the  class  proposed  a  basket 
party  to  be  held  upon  the  bank  of  the  St.  Law- 
rence, each  male  member  of  the  party  offering 
to  row  his  share  of  the  ladies  in  his  separate 
boat  down  the  winding  Salmon,  a  five  miles' 
jaunt.  With  Lucy  at  the  helm,  my  craft  sped 
down  stream  propelled  by  a  youthful  spirit  of 
pride  and  enthusiasm. 

"Dinner  under  the  trees  on  Tyno's  Point 
was  quickly  over,  and  the  young  admirers  soon 
found  some  interesting  object  to  engage  their 
attention  in  pairs.  Lucy  and  I,  always  quieter 

86 


LeCUre's  Story:  The  Initialed  Tree. 

when  alone,  had  realized  that  very  shortly  we 
would  not  see  each  other  as  often,  and  that  per- 
haps in  the  next  year  we  should  be  sent  away 
to  different  colleges. 

"And  thus  it  came  about  that  as  we  knelt 
carving  our  initials,  one  above  the  other,  on  the 
trunk  of  a  bass  wood  tree,  we  queried :  'Shall  we 
always  grow  up  together  in  life  as  our  names 
will  always  remain  together  on  this  tree?' 
Lucy  said :  'I  will  cut  one  stroke  in  the  frame 
to  inclose  our  names  which  says  we  will,'  and 
she  cut  a  strip  in  the  bark  over  the  initials. 
Then  she  looked  into  my  eyes  with  that  soul- 
pleading  look,  and  I  at  once  cut  a  line  down 
one  side.  Lucy  immediately  cut  the  mark  for 
the  opposite  side,  and  three  sides  of  the  frame 
were  then  formed.  It  was  my  turn,  and  I 
hesitated,  for  I  knew  what  it  meant  to  both  of 
us.  I  thought  it  too  early  for  an  engagement. 
Lucy  sank  slowly  down  by  the  side  of  the  tree, 
as  she  used  to  do  from  the  back  of  the  seat  in 
church  upon  her  mother's  shoulder,  and  waited 
for  me  to  say  something.  I  was  wrong,  Andy. 
I  said  we'd  better  wait  before  we  made  the 
other  stroke  to  complete  the  frame.  There 

87 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

was  an  awkward  silence ;  Lucy  toyed  with  the 
penknife  she  held  in  her  hand,  but  looked  no 
more  at  the  initials  cut  into  the  bark  of  the  tree. 


88 


CHAPTER  IX. 


LeClare's  Story:  The  Christmas  Tree. 


"The  next  Autumn  she  went  away  to  the 
State  Normal  School,  and  at  vacation  time  a 
strange  young  man  visited  her  at  her  home  in 
Darrington.  Then,  at  the  end  of  the  Spring 
term,  when  she  returned,  one  of  the  boys  in 
my  class  of  the  year  before  wrote  me  to  the 
city  where  I  had  gone  to  acquire  a  business 
training,  that  Lucy  was  engaged,  and  was  to 
be  married  in  the  fall.  How  many  times  I 
cannot  tell  you  during  my  first  year  in  the 
city  I  had  composed  the  letter  to  Lucy  which  I 
never  sent.  At  night,  seated  at  the  small  stand 
I  used  as  a  writing  table,  in  the  hall  room, 

89 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

top  floor,  back,  I  went  over  for  the  thousandth 
time  the  thought  uppermost  in  my  mind. 
Should  I  write  to  her  and  say,  'Wait  for  me, 
Lucy.  I  am  working  hard  for  the  position  in 
business  which  will  give  me  the  right  to  claim 
you  from  the  comfortable  home  of  your  par- 
ents. You  are  my  constant  inspiration.  For 
you  I  toil  the  whole  day  with  ceaseless  energy. 
For  you,  to  claim  as  my  prize  at  the  end,  I 
have  sacrificed  the  associations  of  home,  ac- 
cepted the  challenge  thrown  down  before  me 
by  the  ambitious  who,  like  myself,  are  striving 
to  gain  that  same  position  which  would  give  to 
them  the  opportunity  to  say,  "I  have  won  the 
race,  I  have  reached  the  goal  first,  now  I  am 
entitled  to  the  prize."  For  you,  Lucy,  one  day 
I  hope  to  return,  and  then  to  the  music  of  the 
old  church  organ,  which  we  both  have  known 
from  childhood,  to  walk  arm  in  arm  from  the 
scene  of  our  innocent  love-making  to  brave 
together  life's  voyage.' 

"But  no,  Andy,  I  never  sent  this  letter.  Was 
it  pride,  I  wonder, — were  my  acts  of  silence 
dictated  by  an  over-cautious  mind,  or  were  the 
subtle  workings  of  my  heart's  emotions  stayed 

90 


LeClare's  Story:  The  Christmas  Tree. 

by  the  reports  which  had  reached  me  that 
Lucy,  my  loved  one,  my  ideal,  could  so  doubt 
my  integrity,  could  so  disregard  the  sacred  ties 
of  our  friendship,  hallowed  by  the  memories  of 
sweet,  childish  innocence,  as  to  accept  the  at- 
tentions of  another  ?  I  could  not  return  at  the 
Christmas  holiday  and  see  another  at  the  side 
of  my  beloved.  At  the  summer  vacation  I  still 
clung  to  my  work,  mastering  the  details  of  the 
business  with  such  an  alarming  rapidity  that 
the  management  would  soon  be  forced  to  place 
me  in  control  of  more  important  affairs.  My 
incentive  now  for  greater  efforts  had  changed 
from  that  which  first  had  inspired  me.  Now 
I  worked  to  accomplish  great  successes,  that, 
indirectly,  Lucy  might  come  to  hear  my  name 
mentioned,  that  she  might  be  proud  to  say,  if 
only  in  her  own  heart,  that  she  had  once  known 
me,  and  as  boy  and  girl  we  had  been  sweet- 
hearts. 

"True  enough,  Andy,  she  was  married  that 
Autumn.  My  invitation  to  their  wedding  came, 
and  with  it  a  short  note  saying  to  try  and  come 
if  possible,  and  if  not,  she  wished  me  all  suc- 
cess in  business,  and  that  my  share  of  happiness 

91 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

might  be  as  great  as  she  had  heard  my  career 
was  proving  successful.  Love  with  pride  was 
contending  in  my  heart.  I  should  not  attend 
the  wedding,  I  finally  decided.  She  had  heard 
about  my  success.  Did  she  not  know  I  had 
done  all  this  for  her  sake  ?  Why,  then,  could 
she  not  have  waited  a  short  two  years  ? 

"Then  love  would  steal  quietly  to  the  door 
of  my  troubled  heart  and  say,  'You  never  told 
her  of  your  resolves.  You  have  never  ex- 
plained the  reason  why  you  wished  to  postpone 
the  carving  of  the  line  which  would  have  fully 
inclosed  the  initials  in  the  bark  upon  the  bass- 
wood  tree  at  Tyno's  Point.  You  have  asked 
her  to  guess  too  much.  You  have  been  un- 
reasonable.' 

"But  pride  would  return,  and,  roughly  push- 
ing1 love  out  of  the  door,  proclaim  in  a  loud, 
harsh  voice,  'She  took  up  with  another  while 
1  have  been  true  to  her,  and  I  am  through.  I 
liave  no  care.  One  day  she  shall  hear,  she  shall 
know  of  my  prominence,  of  my  success.'  Then 
pride  was  joined  by  selfishness  within  the 
chambers  of  my  heart.  The  door  closed,  and 
there  they  held  control  for  a  whole  year. 

98 


LeClare's  Story  :  The  Christmas  Tree. 

"Lucy  and  her  husband  were  now  living  in 
Darrington,  at  the  home  of  her  parents. 
Mother  wrote  me  that  the  Sunday  school  to 
which  I  had  belonged  all  the  years  I  had  spent 
at  home  would  celebrate  the  eve  of  Christmas 
with  the  unloading  of  a  Christmas  tree,  and 
wouldn't  I  come  home  for  that  and  gladden  the 
hearts  of  my  father  and  mother,  now  growing 
old  so  fast  without  me?  That  evening,  the 
same  day  upon  which  I  had  received  the  letter, 
love  came  tapping  again  at  the  door  of  my 
heart.  This  time  I  opened  to  welcome  the  timid 
caller.  'We  are  going  home  together/  it  said, 
4to  mother  and  to  father,  to  Lucy  and  her  hus- 
band. We  will  bring  the  good  words  of  cheer. 
This  Christmas  shall  see  a  reunion  at  the 
old  home.  It  will  seem  good  to  be  there,  and  to 
meet  Lucy  with  her  husband  at  the  church, 
and  to  see  them  happy  in  their  love  for  each 
other  will  put  my  soul  at  rest,  and  give  me  an- 
other chance  to  meet  happiness  should  the  fates 
favor  me.' 

"A  three  years'  absence  from  the  old  place 
had  made  changes,  and  most  of  all  in  myself. 
The  change  of  dress  from  country  to  city,  the 

93' 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

mannerisms  acquired  by  constant  mingling 
with  strangers,  had  given  me  the  air  which  in 
the  country  is  interpreted  as  being  akin  to  pre- 
sumptuousness.  My  school  friends  approached 
me  with  an  uneasiness  of  manner,  while  the 
conversation  with  the  older  members  of  fami- 
lies was  limited  to  a  few  questions  concerning 
my  arrival  and  departure.  The  ladies  of  the 
committee  in  charge  of  the  entertainment  flitted 
about  the  Christmas  tree,  which  was  placed  in 
front  of  the  pulpit  at  the  head  of  the  main  aisle 
and  at  the  end  of  the  edifice  opposite  the  en- 
trance. I  had  not  yet  removed  my  great  coat, 
and,  hat  in  hand,  was  strolling  with  mother  up 
the  aisle  to  the  family  pew.  We  were  very 
early,  and  but  a  few  had  taken  their  seats. 
Some  one  of  the  group  of  ladies  surrounding 
the  tree  had  called  the  attention  of  her  co- 
workers  to  the  approaching  stranger.  At  the 
instant  one  of  their  number  darted  down  the 
aisle.  A  cry  of  joy  had  escaped  her  lips,  and 
in  a  frenzy  of  hysteria  she  fell  into  my  arms. 
It  was  Lucy  Maynard.  Tenderly  I  placed  her 
in  the  very  pew  from  where  I  had  so  often 
stolen  the  childish  glances  at  the  same  brown. 

94 


LeClare's  Story:  The  Christmas  Tree. 

curly  head  and  beautiful  eyes  of  my  Lucy,  who 
now  lay  in  a  dead  faint  upon  the  cushions. 

'  'You  must  care  for  her,  mother/  I  said,  as 
I  turned  hastily  to  leave.  'I  am  going  away; 
and,  now  that  you  know  my  secret,  you  must 
always  pray  that  my  happiness  may  some  time 
be  returned.' 


95 


CHAPTER  X. 
Adieu  to  the  Mining  Camp. 

"Soon  after  I  gave  up  my  position  in  the  city. 
The  money  which  I  had  accumulated  I  de- 
termined to  spend  in  trying  to  forget,  to  stamp 
out  of  my  life  the  truth  of  the  love  which  ex- 
isted between  Lucy  and  me.  She  was  mar- 
ried— I  was  a  gentleman.  It  was  too  late. 
God  might  right  the  wrong  which  had  been 
done,  but  in  the  meantime  two  souls  were  to 
suffer  apart.  For  another  two  years  I  kept 
away  from  home,  my  dear  old  parents  never 
urging  me  to  return.  I  was  successful  in  my 
"business  ventures.  Then  sad  news  again  came 
to  me.  A  fatal  illness  had  attacked  my  father. 
I  reached  his  bedside  in  time  to  hear  him  say, 

96 


Adieu  to  the  Mining  Camp. 

'Edmond,  I  would  have  done  the  same  were  I 
in  your  place.'  We  buried  him  in  a  plot  by 
the  church,  in  the  shadow  of  the  steeple  at  the 
bidding  of  whose  bell  he  had  so  many  years 
come  to  meeting,  and  now  from  the  old  belfry 
tower  it  tolled  the  last  sad  notes  for  the  de- 
parted. 

"Lucy  and  her  husband  had  been  traveling 
for  her  health,  under  the  advice  of  the  old  vil- 
lage doctor.  A  change  of  scene,  he  told  her 
husband,  would  do  her  good.  A  month  I  spent 
at  the  old  homestead.  Mother  had  taken  my 
hand  in  hers  one  evening,  as  we  sat  under  the 
porch,  I  in  the  same  chair  where,  at  the  same 
time  of  the  evening,  father  read  the  weekly 
paper,  and  many  a  time,  with  his  spectacles 
pushed  up  on  his  forehead,  and  in  his  shirt 
sleeves,  had  engaged  in  a  heated  discussion 
with  mother  over  some  editorial  comment  fa- 
vorable to  his  views  on  one  of  his  pet  subjects. 
'Stay  with  me,  Edmond,'  she  said.  'It  won't  be 
long  now.  For  nearly  sixty  years  we  have 
never  been  separated  for  more  than  a  day — 
your  father  from  me.  It — won't — be — long.' 
I  felt  her  grasp  of  my  hand  loosen,  and  she  sank 

97 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

back  into  her  chair.  Her  left  hand  lay  limp 
in  the  folds  of  her  dress,  an  ashy  whiteness  had 
suffused  her  face,  a  sweet,  heavenly  smile  rested 
over  her  features.  Then  I  knew  she  had  joined 
my  father.  Side  by  side  their  bodies  rest  in  the 
shadow  of  the  village  church,  while  their  spirits 
have  joined  the  angels  and  are  looking  down  at 
us  now. 

"No  one  at  the  homestead  nor  in  the  village 
of  Darrington  knows  of  my  whereabouts,  and 
to  them  I  am  as  though  I  had  joined  my  father 
and  mother.  Now,  Andy,  you  know  my  story. 
If  you  think  I  should  return  with  you  to  your 
home,  I  will — but  on  one  condition — that  my 
secret,  my  identity,  be  sacred  between  us." 

Andy  promised.  They  arose  to  seek  their 
couch  of  cedar  boughs,  but  a  strange  gray  light 
was  creeping  through  the  valley.  "Look, 
Andy,"  cried  LeClare.  "It's  morning!" 

LeGare  at  once  piloted  his  partner  down  to 
the  cave-like  opening  in  the  cliff.  There  he 
drew  from  a  ledge  in  the  shelving  rocks  at  his 
side,  the  loose  earth  and  small  stones  he  had 
placed  there  the  night  before,  covering  from 

98 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

sight  the  rich  deposits  which  were  now  plainly 
to  be  seen  fastened  to  the  solid  rock  in  great 
pockets  of  nearly  pure  gold.  Cameron  was 
stunned  at  the  sight.  Wealth  of  such  magni- 
tude he  could  not  comprehend.  Two  days 
they  worked  to  take  from  the  ledge  their  treas- 
ure. Then,  having  made  ready,  they  bid  adieu 
to  the  scenes  of  their  recent  struggles  and  has- 
tened on  their  way.  They  chose  the  same  di- 
rection through  the  mountains  as  that  by  which 
they  had  reached  the  Cariboo  Valley,  heading, 
of  course,  for  the  house  of  the  native  at  the 
head  of  Soda  Creek  with  whom  they  had  left  a 
part  of  their  belongings  upon  entering  the 
ranges  nearly  two  years  previous. 

Cameron  had  explained  to  his  friend  the  ne- 
cessity that  haste  govern  their  every  act  in  their 
exit  from  the  mountainous  district,  that  even  at 
great  inconvenience  to  themselves  they  must 
hurry  with  all  possible  speed,  first  to  overtake 
the  wagon  trains  going  down  through  the  val- 
ley on  the  western  side  of  the  range  to  the 
passes  at  Ashcroft ;  then,  after  crossing  the 
Rockies  to  the  eastern  slope,  to  join  the  pack 
train,  this  to  carry  them  farther  homeward,  till 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

at  Winnipeg  they  would  reach  the  railway. 
Then  upon  fleeing  steeds  of  winged  steel  they 
would  soon  reach  home. 


100 


CHAPTER  XI. 


Nick  Perkins  the  Money  Lender* 


There  is  in  every  rural  community  one  indi- 
vidual who  in  himself  represents  an  institution 
hated  alike  by  the  rich  and  poor,  a  necessary 
evil,  so  to  speak,  and  one  for  whom  the  law 
has  had  to  define  the  limits  to  which  he  may 
carry  his  questionable  practices.  The  going 
and  coming  of  such  a  man  in  the  community 
in  which  he  lives  is  tolerated  by  one  class  of 
residents  who  are  familiar  with  his  tactics,  be- 
cause of  the  fear  that  some  day  they  may  be 
compelled  to  ask  assistance  from  him. 

There  is  yet  another  class  of  the  same  popu- 
lace by  whom  he  is  called  a  great  and  good 
man ;  it  is  because  of  the  power  and  influence 
the  possession  of  wealth  has  put  in  his  hand, 

101 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

which  he  uses  for  his  own  selfish  advancement. 
Although  these  same  people  may  at  the  very 
time  be  paying  him  usury  rates  upon  a  valua- 
tion not  half  the  true  worth  of  security,  should 
they  ask  for  a  further  advance,  this  suave  citi- 
zen, parading  under  the  guise  of  a  public  bene- 
factor, refuses  them,  and  continues  subtly  after 
the  blight  is  upon  them  to  weave  his  drag  net 
closer  about  the  unwary  victims,  strangling 
them  at  last ;  then  w.ith  a  well-feigned  show  of 
reluctance,  he  gathers  in  their  property,  which 
he  has  obtained  at  one-half  its  correct  value, 

Nicholas  Perkins  was  the  worthy  exponent 
of  this  system  in  the  Arcadian  district  of  which 
we  are  writing,  and  it  was  from  him,  through 
his  friend,  the  lawyer,  that  Cameron  secured  the 
loans  of  money  for  which  both  his  farm  and 
that  of  his  brother  were  pledged. 

Perkins  lived  over  at  The  Gore,  and  through 
his  office,  as  Government  tax  collector  for  the 
county,  he  was  afforded  an  excellent  oppor- 
tunity to  know  of  the  business  affairs  of  the 
people  within  his  jurisdiction.  As  a  farmer  at 
The  Gore  he  was  known  to  be  prosperous.  As 
a  money  lender,  there  were  many,  both  in  his 

102 


Nick  Perkins  the  Money  Lender. 

own  town  and  through  the  county,  who  had 
occasion  to  know  of  his  shrewd  bargaining, 
and  as  a  Government  agent  for  the  collection  of 
the  land-holders'  dues,  his  promptness  and  dili- 
gence were  unquestioned.  He  drove  about  the 
county  in  an  open-back  light  wagon,  drawn  by 
a  bob-tailed,  cream-colored  nag.  Behind  the 
seat  a  rope  halter  was  traced  diagonally  across 
from  side  to  side,  fastening  to  the  iron  braces 
which  gave  it  support.  A  slightly  corpulent 
man  was  Perkins,  and  while  jogging  along  the 
country  roads  his  favorite  position  was  on  the 
edge  of  the  seat,  one  hand  grasping  the  reins  at 
which  he  tugged  at  frequent  intervals,  and  the 
other  holding  the  iron  braces  surmounting  the 
seat's  back.  He  wore  a  faded  brown  derby 
hat,  and  a  few  scattered  reddish  side-whiskers 
adorned  his  face.  There  was  no  mustache 
which  should  have  been  there  to  hide  the 
stingy,  straight  lips,  and  an  insinuating  smile 
from  which  the  children  invariably  shrank 
played  at  the  corners  of  his  mouth. 

A  social  call  from  Nick  Perkins  was  not 
taken  as  a  pleasant  surprise  in  any  of  the  homes 
throughout  the  county,  and  least  of  all  in  those 

103 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

of  the  families  at  the  rival  town  to  his  own. 
The  Front.  Perkins  had  a  very  bad  way  about 
him,  the  neighbors  said,  because  of  the  circum- 
stance that  when  a  note  he  held — or  it  might  be 
a  mortgage  upon  a  farm — was  overdue,  they 
were  sure  to  see  the  cream-colored,  bob-tailed 
nag  and  its  owner  driving  slowly  past,  taking 
note  of  the  condition  of  the  land  and  out-build- 
ings. They  said  he  counted  the  fence-rails  so 
that  he  would  be  sure  they  were  all  there  when 
he  got  possession.  Close  with  his  family  and 
servants,  a  gift  for  charity's  sake  would  have 
been  considered  a  huge  joke  with  him.  A  di- 
version in  which  he  seemed  most  to  delight  was 
that  of  keeping  alive  the  dissensions  existing 
between  the  farmers  of  his  own  village  and 
those  whose  lands  met  the  river  at  The  Front. 
He  was  not  a  participator  in  any  of  their 
Saturday  night  brawls, — not  he, — and  but  for 
the  suave,  insinuating  remarks  he  dropped  art- 
fully in  the  hearing  of  certain  ones  at  the  two 
towns,  their  feuds  would  long  before  have  died 
out  for  lack  of  fuel. 

The  rebuff  administered  to  Perkins  by  Bill 
Blakely  before  the  smithy  had  smouldered  in 

104 


Nick  Perkins  the  Money  Lender. 

his  mind,  not  dying  out,  but  fanned  by  more 
recent  reverses  to  his  plans  till  it  had  now 
blazed  upward,  determining  to  consume  for  his 
personal  satisfaction  and  the  discomfiture  of 
The  Front,  the  Camerons'  homesteads.  With 
the  head  of  the  family  away,  and  no  news  of 
him  in  nearly  two  years,  Laughing  Donald  un- 
able at  any  time  to  contend  against  him  for  his 
rights,  and  the  stock  and  dairy  sold  from  the 
farms,  he  had  figured,  despite  the  fact  that 
Barbara,  the  wife  of  Andy  Cameron,  had  paid 
the  interest  money  promptly,  that  there  could 
be  very  little  money  left,  and  in  a  month  more 
he  himself  would  be  in  possession.  Thus  he 
argued,  but  he  reckoned  alone  and  without  a 
friend  of  the  absent  Cameron,  who  lived  a  short 
distance  from  the  smithy,  and  to  whose  words 
of  caution  the  self-important  Perkins  had  given 
no  hearing. 

Almost  daily  now  since  the  beginning  of  the 
month  which  marked  the  end  of  the  two  years 
of  the  mortgage  and  the  absence  of  Cameron, 
Nick  Perkins  and  his  horse  and  buggy,  known 
to  every  school  child  in  the  country,  drove 
along  The  Front.  Turning  upon  the  edge  of 

105 


Adieu  to  the  Mining  Camp. 

his  seat,  his  disengaged  arm  extended  along  the 
brace  surmounting  its  back,  he  would  deliber- 
ately look  about  him  with  that  insolent  proprie- 
tary air  so  common  among  men  of  his  class. 
Barbara  Cameron  witnessed  this  scene  for 
about  a  week.  Laughing  Donald,  in  his  inno- 
cent way,  had  come  over  from  his  place  and  in- 
quired of  her  if  she  had  any  business  with  Nick 
Perkins,  because,  he  said,  he  drove  past  so 
often,  he  thought  he  might  have  some  "dealin's 
with  her." 

The  next  day  Andy's  Dan,  simple-minded, 
but  scenting  trouble  when  he  saw  Perkins  drive 
past,  hurried  down  to  the  gate  at  the  road,  and 


106 


Nick  Perkins  the  Money  Lender. 

closed  and  latched  it  securely.  Inside  of  the 
house  at  the  kitchen  table  sat  the  silent  figure 
of  Barbara.  Spread  out  before  her  was  a  map 
of  the  British  Columbias,  showing  the  ranges 
of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  Two  years  before, 
her  husband  had  studied  the  same  map,  and 
hundreds  of  times  within  the  last  few  weeks 
she  had  pointed  out  to  herself  the  mountain 
passes  through  which  he  said  he  would  journey 
in  going  to  the  gold  fields.  For  the  thousandth 
time  the  thought  came  to  her,  Was  he  dead? 
If  he  were  alive  and  had  found  the  hidden 
treasures  he  would  have  returned  to  her  before 
now.  The  cruel  rumors  which  had  reached  her 
from  the  neighbors  that  her  husband  had  de- 
serted her,  she  never  allowed  a  place  in  her 
troubled  mind.  If  dead,  she  argued,  then  she 
could  not  live  there  and  see  the  poverty  which 
must  come  to  their  families.  She  would  be  hap- 
pier to  live  anywhere  else.  Yes,  happier  'to 
know  for  a  certainty  that  he  was  dead. 

Then  the  thought  had  come  into  her  mind  in 
a  more  definite  form. — Why  not  go  to  him? 
Perhaps,  too,  Andy  were  sick.  A  new  thought 
this.  A  strange  light  was  now  in  the  eyes  of 

107 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

Barbara  Sickness  she  herself  had  ever  known, 
but  the  possibility  of  her  husband's  robust  con- 
stitution succumbing  to  disease  she  had  never 
imagined.  Again  she  said  over  in  her  mind, 
vHe  may  have  been  on  the  way  home.  He  may 
be  lying  with  a  fever  in  one  of  those  camps  in 
the  mountain  passes  he  told  me  about,  which  is 
here  on  the  map." 

In  her  excitement  she  arose  and  paced  the 
floor:  her  features,  set  and  always  stern,  were 
now  drawn  hard.  Looking  from  the  window 
down  to  the  road,  there  she  saw  Nick  Perkins 
passing,  and  looking,  as  she  was  able  to  tell  her 
husband  later,  as  though  he  owned  the  farm  al- 
ready. She  stopped  in  the  middle  of  the  floor. 
With  a  quick  movement  she  untied  the  strings 
to  her  gingham  apron,  hung  it  on  the  peg  by 
the  kitchen  stove,  told  Dan  to  watch  the  bis- 
cuits baking  in  the  oven,  then  retired  to  her 
room.  Soon  she  reappeared.  Dan  saw  she 
had  put  on  her  Sunday  bonnet  and  her  best 
frock.  She  held  a  tightly-rolled  bundle  under 
her  arm.  Glancing  quickly  at  the  clock,  as 
though  her  time  was  short,  she  hurriedly  told 
Dan  to  care  for  their  one  cow,  and  when  he 

108 


Nick  Perkins  the  Money  Lender. 

needed  more  biscuits,  to  go  down  to  Laughing 
Donald's.  Then,  casting  another  hasty  glance 
around  the  rooms  ot  the  house,  she  went  out 
at  the  back  door  and  down  the  road  which  led 
to  the  station. 

Dan  did  not  watch  her  going.     He  knew 
where  she  had  gone. 


CHAPTER  XII. 


Barbara  in  the  Chilcoten  Valley. 


The  Autumn  rains  had  now  set  in,  and  aV 
the  way  up  through  the  Chilcoten  Valley  from 
Quesnel,  the  wagon  train  groaned  and  pitched 
from  side  to  side.  The  wheels  rolled  in  mud 
up  to  the  very  hubs,  and  the  horses  lagged  in 
their  traces,  wearied  by  the  excessive  burden 
they  were  urged  to  drag.  Sandwiched  in  with 
the  baggage,  providing  for  their  comfort  as 
best  they  could,  were  the  several  passengers. 
Upon  the  front  seat  with  the  driver  sat  the 
only  woman  passenger  of  the  company.  A 
figure  tall  and  spare,  a  face  thin  and  drawn, 
lines  that  were  deep  cut,  marked  the  features 

110 


Barbara  in  the  Chilcoten  Valley. 

of  a  determined  character.  Her  manners  were 
not  engaging,  and  her  fellow  travelers  soon 
understood  that  she  preferred  to  be  left  alone, 
not  to  talk.  But  they  had  observed  through 
the  tedious  journey  up  from  Quesnel  to  the 
terminus  at  the  head  of  Soda  Creek,  that  she 
had  at  intervals  questioned  the  driver,  each 
time  making  him  confirm  his  answer  by  re- 
peating it  a  second  time. 

"Yes,"  said  he,  "I  am  sure  that  I  brought 
your  husband  up  this  valley.  It  must  be  nigh 
two  years  ago  this  Fall,  and  if  I  ain't  mis- 
taken, him  and  another  man  left  some  truck 
over  at  Dan  Magee's  place,  across  the  bridge  at 
the  head  of  the  trail.  If  ye  want,  mum,  I'll 
take  ye  over  thar  soon  as  I  put  the  horses  up." 
They  had  now  reached  the  end  of  the  wagon 
route  and  the  passengers  had  dismounted  in 
front  of  the  building  which  served  as  a  lodging 
house,  but  Barbara  sat  awaiting  the  return  of 
the  driver,  who  by  his  positive  answers  to  her 
questionings,  had  kindled  the  dying  flame  of 
hope  in  her  heart,  and  already  through  her 
weak  frame  new  life  coursed  with  a  quick- 
ened throb.  Up  to  this  time,  over  the  trails  by 

111 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

which  she  had  come  no  definite  information 
could  she  obtain  that  her  husband  had  passed 
that  way.  No  encouragement  had  she  received 
to  inspire  within  her  that  fortitude  which 
would  aid  her  to  withstand  all  fatigue,  knowing 
that  at  the  end  of  the  journey  she  should  meet 
her  beloved ;  and  now  she  sat  transfixed,  afraid 
to  discover  the  truth  of  the  report,  fearing 
there  might  be  a  sudden  ending  of  the  hopes 
she  had  allowed  to  spring  up  in  her  heart,  that 
soon  she  should  see  her  husband,  and  the  long- 
ing of  her  soul  to  be  at  his  side  would  be  satis- 
fied. 

She  was  presently  rejoined  by  the  driver  of 
the  van,  which  was  left  standing  at  the  side  of 
the  hotel,  the  team  of  four  horses  having  been 
detached  for  stabling.  Together  they  went  to- 
ward the  home  of  Magee.  The  dim  lights  were 
beginning  to  show  through  the  gathering  dark- 
ness from  the  cabins  of  the  scattered  settle- 
ment. A  thin  mist  was  rising  from  the  damp- 
ness, and  but  for  the  feeble  rays  which  filtered 
through  nothing  would  have  been  visible  to 
mark  the  exact  location  of  the  house.  To  one 
of  those  lights,  coming  as  if  from  out  the  side 

112 


Barbara  in  the  Chilcoten  Valley. 

of  the  hill,  Barbara  and  her  guide  came. 

"This  is  the  place,  mum.  Dan  Magee  is  a 
friend  of  mine,  so  you  needn't  be  afraid  to  tell 
him  what  you  have  come  about."  The  door 
opened  cautiously  in  answer  to  the  knock.  "It's 
all  right,  Dan,"  said  the  driver  of  the  stage 
wagon.  "Here's  somebody  wants  to  see  you." 
The  door  opened  wide.  Barbara  and  her  friend 
advanced  into  the  light. 

Seated  around  a  table  at  the  side  of  the  room 
opposite  the  door  were  two  men,  one  young, 
bronzed,  but  handsome,  the  other  older  and 
weather  beaten,  his  beard  untrimmed  and  hair 
unkempt.  They  looked  toward  the  door  as  the 
strange  visitor  of  the  night  entered,  then  quick- 
ly, as  if  from  a  sudden  impulse,  the  older  man 
stood  up.  His  hand  shook,  as  it  rested  upon 
the  table,  and  his  eyes  stood  out  as  if  they 
would  leap  from  their  sockets.  The  tall  figure 
of  this  silent  woman  had  advanced  to  the  mid- 
dle of  the  room,  her  eyes  fastened  upon  the  man 
standing  by  the  table.  Slowly  her  two  arms 
were  raised,  and  stepping  quickly  forward,  in 
a  dreadful  whisper  she  ejaculated,  "Surely, 
Andy,  it  is  ye  !"  Cameron  also  had  recognized 

113 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

his  wife,  but  he  caught  her  in  his  arms  only  to 
lay  her  tenderly  upon  the  couch,  for  she  had 
swooned  away. 


114 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


The  Mortgage  Comes  Due. 


On  the  first  of  October — at  least  so  they  said 
back  at  The  Gore — Nick  Perkins  was  to  take 
over  as  his  own  the  Cameron  farms  at  The 
Front. 

Since  the  flight  of  Barbara  early  in  Septem- 
ber Perkins  had  patrolled  the  roadway  almost 
daily,  surveying  from  his  wagon,  as  was  his 
custom,  the  home  of  Laughing  Donald.  Then 
continuing  his  round  of  inspection,  he  would 
ride  along  past  the  farm  at  The  Nole.  There 
at  the  closed  gate,  mute  but  defiant,  guarding 
the  house  like  a  faithful  dumb  animal  in  the 
absence  of  his  master,  Perkins  found  Andy's 
Dan  each  time  that  he  passed. 

The  cool  evenings  of  the  approaching  Au- 

115 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

tumn  had  broken  up  the  meetings  of  the  Gos- 
sip Club  before  the  smithy,  but  the  depression 
weighing  upon  the  sympathizers  of  their  luck- 
less neighbors  at  The  Front  was  like  the  omi- 
nous quiet  preceding  a  storm  which  leaves  dis- 
aster and  despair  in  its  wake. 

Angus  Ferguson  had  frequently  lent  a  help- 
ing hand  in  the  putting  away  of  the  Winter's 
supply  up  at  Laughing  Donald's,  and  of  late 
the  silence  existing  between  Davy  the  black- 
smith and  Bill  Blakely,  and  their  intense 
thoughtfulness  whenever  they  met  at  the  shop, 
was  proof  positive  to  the  observer  that  they  un- 
derstood that  the  responsibility  of  averting  the 
approaching  trouble  to  their  neighbor — which 
was  also  an  indignity  aimed  at  the  clans  at 
The  Front — devolved  wholly  upon  them.  As 
the  days  passed  the  confident  look  on  the  face 
of  Perkins  so  asserted  itself  that  at  length 
while  passing  the  shop  he  stared  into  the  black- 
ness of  the  open  door  with  the  insinuating 
smile  of  the  hypocrite.  Davy  watched  him 
from  the  grimy  window  nearest  the  forge,  and 
by  one  of  his  severe  quieting  looks  he  per- 
suaded Bill  Blakely  to  let  him  drive  on  unmo- 

116 


The  Mortgage  Comes  Due. 

lasted.  After  Perkins  and  his  cream-colored 
nag  had  disappeared  up  the  roadway  along 
The  Front,  Bill  walked  uneasily  around  the 
shop,  kicking  about  the  floor  the  loose  horse- 
shoes and  fire  tongs  lying  at  the  foot  of  the 
anvil.  Davy  glanced  at  his  friend  over  the  steel 
rims  of  his  spectacles,  awaiting  an  expression 
on  the  subject  each  had  silently  argued  for 
weeks,  as  he  rounded  the  while  on  the  anvil's 
arm  the  curve  of  a  shoe  to  fit  the  farm  horse 
lazily  resting  in  the  corner.  During  the  last 
minute  before  leaving  Davy,  the  frowning 
wrinkles  in  the  face  and  forehead  of  Old  Bill 
had  disappeared,  and  encountering  the  smith 
as  he  carried  in  the  tongs,  grasping  by  the  red 
hot  toe  cork  the  shoe  to  fit  to  the  mare  in  the 
corner,  his  lips  were  copiously  moistened  from 
the  weed  to  which  he  was  a  pronounced  slave. 
His  goatee  was  moving  rapidly  up  and  down, 
and  Davy  halted,  for  he  knew  a  decision  had 
been  reached. 

"To-morrow  is  the  last  day,  Davy,"  said 
Bill.  "I'll  be  on  my  way  to  the  town  in  the 
morning.  If  there's  no  news  from  Andy  Cam- 
eron it  won't  take  you  long  to  tell  it  to  me  when 

117 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

I'm  passing."  Then  he  looked  Davy  straight 
in  the  eye,  winked  his  own  blue  eyes  a  few 
times,  drew  out  from  his  trousers  pocket  the 
plug  of  chewing  tobacco,  and  was  gone  in  an 
instant.  Davy  made  no  remark  to  the  neighbor 
who  was  the  onlooker  at  this  little  episode,  the 
termination  of  a  month  of  silent  conferences 
held  between  these  two  men,  sturdy  types  of 
rural  loyalty. 

"I  thought  Bill  would  do  it,"  mused  the 
smith  to  himself.  "He's  got  the  heart,  and  a 
whole  lot  of  other  things  that  the  people  round 
here  don't  know  much  about.  But  Bill  knows 
I  know  it,  and  that's  why  he's  been  a-hanging 
around  here  a-wantin'  of  me  to  say  something. 
But  I  knowed  he'd  say  it  all  right,"  and  in  his 
pleasure  Davy  hammered  the  nail-clinches  with 
double  energy  into  the  hoofs  of  the  docile  mare. 

Next  morning,  before  the  rays  of  the  Au- 
tumn sun  had  changed  the  whiteness  of  the 
hoar  frost,  shining  like  a  coat  of  silver  upon 
the  shingled  roofs  of  the  buildings,  and  cover- 
ing with  a  mantel  of  gray  the  green  shrubbery 
and  grass  by  the  roadside,  the  smith  unlocked 
the  door  to  his  place,  and  stepped  within  its 

118 


The  Mortgage  Comes  Due. 

darkness.  At  the  same  early  hour,  coming 
along  by  the  cheese  factory,  down  the  side  hill 
and  through  the  hollow,  then  over  the  plank 
bridge  which  crossed  the  whey-tainted  creek, 
the  innocent  cause  of  so  much  contention,  now 
past  the  store  at  the  four  corners,  steadily  there 
sounded  in  the  early  morning  quiet  the  echoing 
thump,  thump,  thump  of  the  tread  of  Old  Bill's 
cowhide  boots  on  the  hard  roadbed.  Davy 
recognized  the  step  as  it  came  nearer.  Now  it 
was  past  the  wheelwright's  place — he  could 
see  his  old  friend  in  the  roadway. 

"He's  not  a-goin'  to  stop,"  thought  Davy, 
but  when  nearly  up  to  the  rise  of  ground  just 
to  the  west  of  the  shop,  Bill  half  turned,  and 
with  his  hands  deep  into  his  trousers  pockets, 
the  peak  of  his  faded  cloth  cap  pushed  to  one 
side,  he  stood  half  listening,  half  looking  for  a 
sign  from  Davy.  Anticipating  the  man,  the 
smith  had  in  his  characteristic  way  upon  criti- 
cal moments  thrust  his  head  around  the  side 
of  the  open  door,  and  with  a  nod  motioned  Bill 
onward.  There  was  no  word  from  Cameron. 

Later  in  the  day,  driving  along  the  road 
which  turned  at  the  four  corners  into  that 

119 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

which  passed  the  smithy,  was  the  familiar  sight 
of  Nick  Perkins  and  his  bob-tailed  horse.  He 
sat  as  usual  upon  the  edge  of  the  seat,  his  dis- 
engaged arm  grasping  the  brace  which  formed 
its  back.  He  had  put  on  his  Sunday  coat,  and 
as  he  passed  the  door  of  the  shop  Davy  could 
see  from  his  window  by  the  forge  the  insolent 
smile  of  triumph  which  Perkins  cast  in  his  di- 
rection. 

"When  he  meets  Bill  Blakely  up  there  at 
the  lawyer's,"  thought  Davy,  "perhaps  he'll 
change  that  smile." 


120 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


Blakely  Consults  Cameron's  Lawyer. 


In  rooms  upon  the  second  floor  of  a  business 
block,  whose  windows  looked  down  on  the 
main  thoroughfare  of  the  country  town,  were 
the  offices  of  Cameron's  lawyer  friend.  The 
ground  floor  of  this  building  was  occupied  by 
firms  in  various  lines  of  business,  and  for  the 
accommodation  of  the  occupants  overhead 
there  was  on  the  outside  of  the  building  a  stair- 
way leading  up  from  the  street.  Standing 
upon  the  landing  at  the  head  of  this  stairway, 
outlined  in  shadow  by  the  morning  sun  against 
the  whitewashed  bricks  of  the  wall,  was  the 
picturesque  figure  of  Bill  Blakely,  awaiting  the 
lawyer's  arrival. 

"Ah,  good  morning,  Bill !"  said  the  latter  as 

121 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

he  reached  the  landing,  curiously  eyeing  his 
early  caller. 

"Mornin',  Donald  Ban,"  returned  Bill,  as  he 
followed  him  through  the  door.  Donald  Ban 
was  curious  as  to  the  nature  of  the  business 
which  prompted  this  unexpected  call  from  Bill. 
Often,  to  the  discomfort  of  Blakely,  this  same 
lawyer  had  opposed  his  counsel  in  the  settle- 
ment in  court  of  the  encounters  he  had  figured 
in  while  disposing  of  the  men  who  came  over 
from  The  Gore  to  argue  the  cause  for  the 
tainted  condition  of  the  creek.  Donald  Ban 
had  many  times  convinced  the  judge  and  jury 
that  Blakely  had  been  the  offender  and  must 
pav  the  costs,  at  least,  of  the  litigation.  The 
lawyer  had  been  impressed  with  the  candid, 
matter-of-fact  way  in  which  Bill  had  accepted 
these  verdicts.  His  manner  upon  each  occa- 
sion seemed  to  indicate, — "Well,  if  the  judge 
and  jury  say  so,  I'm  willing  to  pay  the  fees  of 
a  lawyer  smart  enough  to  make  them  say  so. 
Besides,  I  have  had  my  fun  out  of  it,  too." 
Then  he  paid  up  without  an  objection. 

"Sit  down,  Bill,"  said  the  lawyer  in  an  en- 
couraging tone,  for  down  in  his  heart  he  liked 

122 


Blakely  Consults  Cameron's  Lawyer. 

the  man.  Bill  had  removed  his  peaked  cloth 
cap,  showing  an  intelligent  head,  covered  with 
a  heavy  crop  of  unkempt,  straight,  white  hair. 
Donald  Ban  moved  about  the  room  making 
comments  on  general  topics,  calculated  to  put 
his  visitor  at  ease,  but  still  he  was  at  a  loss  to 
account  for  the  appearance  of  Bill  at  his  office. 
Suddenly  Bill  blurted  out  this  question :  "You 
are  a  friend  of  Andy  Cameron,  ain't  you,  Don- 
ald Ban?" 

"Yes,"  replied  the  lawyer.  "He  is  a  client, 
and  a  friend  of  mine,  also." 

"Well,  so  am  I  a  friend  of  Cameron,  and 
you  can  write  that  in  the  papers,  too,  when 
you  make  them  out,"  and  Bill  turned  in  his 
chair  facing  the  lawyer,  who  had  now  seated 
himself  at  the  opposite  side  of  the  office  table. 
"Nick  Perkins  from  The  Gore, — you  know 
him,  too,  I  suppose,  don't  ye  ?" 

"Yes,  I  know  him,"  answered  the  other,  still 
waiting  for  his  clue  to  the  situation.  Bill 
during  his  last  question  had  reached  down  into 
the  lining  of  his  vest  and  had  taken  therefrom 
an  oblong  package,  inclosed  in  a  wrapping 
which  showed  the  signs  of  much  handling  and 

123 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

tied  about  with  a  soiled  string.  He  laid  it  on 
the  table  before  him,  then  continued :  "Donald 
Ban,  you  are  a  good  lawyer,  and  for  that  rea- 
son I  never  wanted  you  on  my  side.  Mine  was 
always  the  wrong  side,  and  I  was  a-feared  that 
you  would  make  the  jury  say  it  was  the  right 
side,  when  I  knew  all  the  time  it  wasn't.  This 
is  the  time,  though,  Donald  Ban,  that  I  am  here 
to  see  you  the  first  thing."  Bill  had  risen  and 
was  leaning  forward,  his  two  hands  resting 
upon  the  table.  "In  these  papers,"  he  con- 
tinued, "these  papers  that  Nick  Perkins  holds 
against  Andy  Cameron,  do  they  mention  'on  or 
before,'  or  only  mention  that  it  is  'on'  the  cer- 
tain day  they  are  due?"  The  lawyer,  noting 
the  intense  earnestness  and  excitement  of 
Blakely,  answered  at  once  that  the  form  of  the 
mortgage  held  by  Perkins  against  the  Cameron 
properties  read  that  "on  or  before  the  first  day 
of  October  of  that  year,  they  were  due  and 

payable,  and " 

"That's  enough,  Donald  Ban — all  I  wanted 
to  know.  It  is  now  one  day  before,  and  you 
write  it  down  in  the  papers  and  tell  Andy 
when  he  comes  back  that  a  friend  of  his — you 

124 


Blakely  Consults  Cameron's  Lawyer. 

needn't  mind  putting  it.  down  there  as  who  it 
was — put  up  the  cash  and  beat  the  hypocrite 
Perkins  out  at  his  own  game.  Count  out  what 
you  want  from  that  package,  Donald  Ban,  and 
give  the  rest  to  me.  Perkins  will  be  along 
pretty  soon  now,  and  when  he  comes  I  want 
you  to  have  it  all  ready  for  him  to  sign  off  his 
claim  against  the  Camerons  on  The  Front." 
The  lawyer,  taken  so  completely  by  surprise, 
was  at  a  loss  to  know  what  to  say.  "Cameron 
will  be  back  soon,  mark  what  I  am  telling 
you,"  Bill  continued,  "and  if  he  has  made  noth- 
ing, I  will  be  a  safer  man  for  him  to  owe  money 
to  than  Nick  Perkins." 


125 


CHAPTER  XV. 
Cameron's  Resolve. 


It  was  the  end  of  September.  The  wind 
blew  violently,  the  faint  light  of  the  pale  moon, 
hidden  every  other  instant  by  the  masses  of 
dark  clouds  that  were  sweeping  across  the  sky, 
whitened  the  faces  of  the  two  silent  watchers 
in  the  chamber  of  the  sick.  Under  the  same 
hospitable  roof  where  Barbara  had  fallen  ex- 
hausted at  the  feet  of  her  husband,  she  now  lay 
prostrated  by  a  raging  fever.  Standing  near 
the  foot  of  the  couch,  alert  for  a  sign  of  return- 
ing consciousness,  Cameron  watched  by  turns 
with  his  friend  the  passing  of  the  life  of  his 
devoted  wife,  which  now  hung  in  the  balance 
by  only  a  slight  thread.  In  her  rational  mo- 
ments during  the  days  when  the  burning  fever 

126 


Cameron's  Resolve. 

would  be  lowest,  Barbara  had  told  the  story  of 
the  persecution  of  the  Cameron  family  by  Nick 
Perkins,  the  insinuating  gossip  set  afloat  by 
Fraser,  the  carpenter,  the  defense  in  their  be- 
half made  by  Bill  Blakely  and  the  kindnesses 
offered  them  by  Angus  Ferguson  and  Davy 
Simpson,  the  blacksmith.  LeClare  had  di- 
vined the  truth  long  before  his  friend  Cam- 
eron, that  the  relentless  fever  raging  in  the 
brain  and  body  of  the  proud,  determined 
woman  must  soon  burn  her  life's  taper  to  the 
end. 

All  the  available  medical  skill  and  the  ten- 
derest  nursing  would  not  arrest  the  progress 
of  the  fever,  and  Cameron,  too,  at  last  de- 
spaired of  the  life  of  his  beloved.  The  doctors 
had  told  him  that  the  end  was  nearing,  and 
now  he  sat  by  the  side  of  the  couch,  never  for 
a  moment  removing  his  gaze  from  the  face  of 
the  sick  one.  As  the  hour  of  midnight  ap- 
proached, the  eyes  of  the  patient  opened  slow- 
ly, and  the  look  of  intelligence  brought  a  ray 
of  joy  to  his  heart.  Feebly  she  murmured  as 
he  bent  over  her  to  catch  every  precious  syl- 
lable. 

127 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

"I  am  going' now,  Andy,"  she  whispered. 
"Say  good-bye  to  Dan  for  me.  I  loved  you  too 
much  to  hear  them  say  you  had  deserted  me, 
and  that's  why  I  came  to  find  you.  You  won't 
blame  me,  will  you?"  and  he  answered  her  by 
smoothing  her  feverish  brow.  "Make  me  only 
this  promise,  Andy,"  she  continued  with  great 
difficulty,  for  her  strength  was  quickly  going, 
"that  you  take  me  back  with  you.  And  if  Nick 
Perkins  has  taken  our  home  from  us,  then  go 
direct  to  the  graveyard  by  the  little  church." 

Then  the  soft  love  light  in  her  eyes  faded  out 
as  she  sank  quietly  away  into  the  pillows,  her 
lips  slightly  parted  and  the  long  eyelashes 
drooping  from  the  half-closed  lids.  The  proud 
spirit  had  taken  its  flight.  It  was  in  the  twi- 
light of  that  mysterious  country  called  Death, 
and  for  a  moment,  as  Cameron  stood  by  the 
side  of  the  cot,  the  veil  seemed  to  part  from 
before  the  throne  of  Glory,  and  beckoning  to 
him  to  follow,  he  saw  the  spirit  of  his  loved 
one  borne  safely  hence  by  the  angels  of  peace. 
A  great  sob  shook  his  frame,  and  as  he  stood 
up,  gazing  at  the  lifeless  form  of  his  devoted 
wife,  he  exclaimed  in  indignant  agony :  "Mur- 

128 


Cameron's  Resolve. 

dered!  Their  infernal  gossip  has  done  this, 
and  here,  in  the  presence  of  the  angel  of  death, 
I  vow  that  I  shall  live  to  avenge  this  innocent 

soul." 

****** 

Together  they  journeyed  homeward.  Le 
Clare  was  greatly  concerned  over  the  change 
which  had  taken  place  in  his  friend.  The 
transformation  so  suddenly  accomplished  in 
the  man  reminded  him  of  the  instances  told  of 
how,  from  a  terrible  fright  at  the  sudden  ap- 
proach of  danger,  reason  had  been  restored  to 
the  unbalanced  mind.  In  the  case  of  Cameron, 
however,  where  before  he  had  been  content  to 
follow,  acquiescing  without  objection  or  com- 
ment to  the  conditions  which  surrounded  him, 
awaiting  always  a  suggestion  from  his  partner 
to  act  out  the  inclination  which  had  arisen  in 
his  own  mind,  he  had  now  suddenly  assumed 
the  role  of  leader,  and  so  naturally,  it  appeared, 
that  no  indecision  was  manifest  because  of  his 
recent  acquirement  of  the  office.  That  primi- 
tive charm  of  manner,  that  honest,  simple  style 
of  the  Glengarry  farmer,  which  had  so  won  the 
confidence  of  LeClare  when  traversing  the 

129 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

same  route  in  going  to  the  gold  fields,  had  now 
upon  their  return  trip  given  place  to  personal 
traits  of  even  greater  significance.  The  new 
development  of  character  in  his  friend  showed 
LeClare  at  every  turn  the  master  mind  awaken- 
ing. Grief  had  rudely  torn  away  the  mask 
from  the  uncharitable,  had  laid  bare  the  deceit 
of  the  untrue  and  the  wickedness  of  the  hypo- 
crite. The  death  of  his  wife,  Barbara,  had  re- 
moved the  object  of  his  unselfish  love,  and  to 
LeGare  it  was  very  evident  that  the  future  had 
in  store  for  those  who  figured  in  the  events 
consequent  to  Cameron's  leaving  The  Front,  a 
destiny  more  or  less  happy,  according  as  they 
should  be  judged  upon  the  return  of  the  pros- 
pector to  his  home. 


130 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


The  Return  of  the  Gold  Diggers. 


They  were  now  nearing  the  station  at  a  mile 
back  from  The  Front.  Cameron  had  acquaint- 
ed LeClare  with  the  simple  funeral  arrange- 
ments he  wished  carried  out  as  soon  after  their 
arrival  as  possible.  One  precaution  he  insisted 
must  be  taken,  and  that  was,  to  allow  no  indi- 
cation to  appear  of  their  possession  of  wealth. 
The  significance  of  this  request  LeQare  well 
understood.  At  the  call  of  the  station  stop  for 
The  Front,  the  two  men  alighted,  and  hurry- 
ing forward,  superintended  the  removal  of  the 
copper-lined  casket  beneath  whose  sealed  cover 
was  the  body  of  the  courageous  woman  that  so 
lately  had  gone  in  search  of  the  husband  who 
now  would  live  to  do  for  those  in  kind  who  had 
done  for  the  departed. 

131 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

Cameron  stood  by  the  side  of  the  rough  box 
upon  the  platform,  as  the  noise  from  the  fast 
disappearing  express  train  grew  faint  and  died 
away  in  the  distance.  For  a  moment  he  was 
lost  in  thought.  Knowing  him  to  be  in  the 
company  of  Cameron,  the  keeper  of  the  small 
depot  approached  LeClare,  and  with  a  jerk  of 
his  head  toward  a  farm  wagon  and  driver  cau- 
tiously nearing,  as  if  fearing  to  obtrude,  he  said 
in  a  hushed  voice, — 

"It's  Andy's  Dan.  He's  been  a-waitin'  fer 
'im." 

Twice  a  week  and  sometimes  oftener  during 
the  October  month,  so  Cameron  was  afterward 
told  by  the  neighbors,  Andy's  Dan  was  seen 
regularly  to  drive  back  to  the  railroad  station, 
and  there  remaining  at  a  respectful  distance, 
watch'  for  a  passenger  who  might  alight  from 
the  through  train  from  the  West.  Then  seeing 
no  familiar  face  to  reward  his  coming,  he 
would  turn  away  and  drive  back  to  the  farm  at 
The  Nole  to  come  again  another  day. 

Startled  from  his  reverie  by  the  remark  of 
the  station  master,  Cameron  turned  to  see  the 
conveyance  drawn  up  by  the  platform  at  his 

132 


The  Return  of  the  Gold  ^Diggers. 

side.  Andy's  Dan  alighted  from  the  vehicle 
and  clasped  the  outstretched  hand  of  his  be- 
reaved brother  in  silence.  Still  without  ex- 
changing a  word,  they  walked  over  to  the  side 
of  the  long  box.  Then,  as  if  suddenly  remem- 
bering, Dan  looked  into  his  brother's  face,  a 
sad  smile  playing  upon  his  features. 

"We  can  take  her  home,  Andy,"  he  said. 
"Bill  Blakely  told  me  to  tell  ye  that  when  you 
come." 

In  the  centre  of  the  burying-ground,  set  back 
from  the  roadway  and  raising  its  spire  heaven- 
vard  above  the  tombstones  at  either  side,  the 
church  at  The  Front  reposes  among  the  graves. 
One  by  one  these  monuments  had  been  reared, 
till  now  they  marked  a  place  where  a  loved  one 
had  been  taken  to  rest  from  each  of  the  families 
at  The  Front. 

A  mound  of  freshly  dug  earth,  thrown  up 
upon  the  sod  in  one  corner  of  the  inclosure, 
told  of  a  newly  made  grave.  A  cold  November 
rain  had  been  falling,  accompanied  by  a  chill- 
ing wind,  which  came  in  fitful  gusts.  The  over 
ripe,  deadened  stalks  of  the  golden-rod  beat 

133 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

against  the  board  fence,  rapping  at  intervals 
like  the  weather  strips  upon  a  deserted  house. 
The  drops  of  water  fell  aslant  from  the  eaves 
of  the  church  roof,  and  a  horse,  meagrely  cov- 
ered, shivered  beneath  the  shed  at  the  rear. 
Bill  Blakely  had  placed  in  a  convenient  corner 
of  the  shed  the  pick  and  shovel  he  had  been 
using,  then  backing  his  horse  from  under 
cover,  he  drove  over  to  the  farm  at  The  Nole. 
Information  had  spread  among  the  neighbors 
that  Cameron  had  returned  to  The  Front 
bringing  with  him  the  remains  of  his  wife.  No 
further  news  were  they  able  to  gather,  but  to 
Davy  Simpson,  Angus  Ferguson,  Bill  Blakely 
and  a  few  others,  Cameron  had  sent  a  special 
message,  saying  that  as  friends  to  himself  and 
the  departed  he  wished  them  to  be  present  at 
the  funeral  to  take  place  from  The  Nole  the 
following  afternoon. 

Meanwhile  Cameron  had  also  dispatched  his 
friend  LeClare  with  Dan  as  his  driver,  bearing 
a  note  to  his  lawyer  friend  up  at  the  county 
village.  To  them  the  import  of  the  note  ap- 
peared to  be  nothing  more  than  a  request  for 
Iris  friend  to  attend  upon  the  following  day, 

134 


The  Return  of  the  Gold  cDiggers. 

but  later,  at  the  farm,  as  he  saw  the  lawyer 
place  upon  the  coffin  in  the  front  room  a  beau- 
tiful wreath  of  the  purest  white  lilies,  LeClare 
knew  that  Andy's  orders  had  been  telegraphed 
to  the  city.  The  best  undertaker  the  county  af- 
forded was  in  charge  of  the  details,  with  in- 
structions to  slight  nothing  in  the  arrange- 
ments and  the  assurance  that  his  bill  of  ex- 
penses would  be  promptly  met. 

Cameron  greeted  his  friends  by  a  cordial 
grasp  of  the  hand.  A  new  dignity  of  manner 
impressed  itself  upon  his  old  neighbors.  His 
bearing  at  this  time  was  that  of  a  man  of  a 
great  reserve  force,  softened  through  the  me- 
dium of  sorrow.  Kindly  he  thanked  the  few 
trends  who  had  come  to  him,  and  together 
upon  the  arrival  of  the  clergyman  they  assem- 
bled in  the  front  room  to  fulfill  the  last  request 
of  the  departed — that,  surrounded  by  her 
friends  and  family,  her  pastor  should  offer  a 
prayer,  and  then  in  the  graveyard  by  the  small 
church  isear  her  home  they  should  lay  her  at 
rest. 


136 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


Cameron  Outlines  His  Policy. 


The  Winter  drew  on  apace.  At  Laughing 
Donald's  carpenters  and  workmen  had  been 
busily  employed  within  and  without  the  house 
for  weeks.  Soon  the  premises  took  on  a  finished 
look,  and  the  workmen  departed  as  mysterious- 
ly as  they  had  come.  In  the  new  home,  the 
wife  of  Laughing  Donald  presided,  directing 
her  servants  with  that  natural  grace  and  dig- 
nity which  is  the  certain  indication  of  a  lady 
born.  Andy  Cameron  since  his  return  had  not 
spent  a  night  at  his  house  at  The  Nole,  and 
now  I.eClare  and  Dan  also  joined  the  family 
at  Laughing  Donald's. 

136 


Cameron  Outlines  His  Policy. 

Soon  after  the  return  of  Cameron,  Bill 
Blakely  and  he  drove  to  the  county  town  and 
to  Donald  Ban's,  the  lawyer's.  Together  they 
climbed  the  stairway  to  the  office  each  had 
sought  before.  Bill  leading  the  way. 

''Morning  to  ye,  Donald  Ban,"  said  Bill,  in 
a  voice  unusually  soft  for  him.  The  lawyer 
asked  his  callers  to  be  seated.  "You  know, 
don't  ye,"  continued  Bill,  as  he  clutched  his 
cloth  cap,  "that  I  said  he'd  be  back  soon," — 
nodding  toward  Cameron,  who  had  seated  him- 
self comfortably  by  the  table,  apparently  havr 
ing  no  uneasiness  about  the  outcome  of  the 
consultation. 

"Yes,  Bill,"  answered  Donald  Ban.  "You 
have  the  right  stuff  in  you  to  make  any  man 
proud  to  be  called  your  friend,  and  you  not 
only  outwitted  your  old  acquaintance,  Nick 
Perkins  from  The  Gore,  causing  him  the  most 
bitter  disappointment  of  his  unenviable  career, 
but  you  performed  a  service  which,  at  the  time, 
you  did  for  a  poor  but  honest  neighbor.  We 
have  all  understood  your  motives  thoroughly, 
and  in  acting  for  Mr.  Cameron,  when  I  return 
to  you  the  amount  of  money  which  you  ad- 

137 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

vanced  to  save  for  him  his  home  and  good 
name,  I  can  truthfully  say  that  with  it  you 
have  the  gratitude  of  the  wealthiest  and  most 
distinguished  citizen  of  the  County  Glen- 
garry." 

Blakely  looked  from  one  to  the  other,  not 
knowing  whether  he  had  heard  or  understood 
aright.  Cameron  smiled  assuringly  as  he 
slapped  his  old  fighting  friend  upon  the  shoul- 
der. "Bill,"  he  said,  "we  will  be  very  busy 
this  Winter  and  all  next  Summer,  you  and  I. 
We  will  let  the  waters  of  the  creek  flow  on  to 
The  Gore  unmolested.  We  will  let  Fraser,  the 
carpenter,  go  on  with  his  tattling  about  the 
neighbors.  We  will  keep  them  all  guessing, 
Bill.  My  friend  LeClare  and  I  want  to  see 
you  very  soon  at  Laughing  Donald's — and,  by 
the  way,  Bill,  don't  mention  the  remark  you 
heard  Donald  Ban  make  about  some  friend  of 
yours  having  a  little  spare  money." 

Bill  looked  at  Andy  with  the  old  mischievous 
twinkle  in  his  eye,  his  goatee  began  to  move 
up  and  down,  and  he  was  in  his  old  time  mood 
again.  "Well,  Andy,"  he  replied,  "they  say 
these  lawyers  often  tell  more  than  the  truth, 

138 


Cameron  Outlines  His  Policy. 

but  anyhow,  when  you  and  your  friend  run  a 
little  short,  you  know  where  Bill  Blakely  lives," 
and  he  went  out  of  the  door,  telling  Cameron 
he  could  find  him  at  the  grocery  when  he  was 
ready  to  return. 

Cameron  and  his  friend  were  left  to  them- 
selves for  the  first  time  since  their  home-com- 
ing. His  visit  to  the  lawyer  was  for  a  twofold 
purpose:  the  first,  the  fulfill  the  legal  require- 
ments necessary  in  discharging  his  money  obli- 
gations to  Blakely;  that  disposed  of,  he  pro- 
ceeded to  lay  before  the  lawyer  the  plans  he 
intended  at  once  to  put  into  execution. 

"Donald  Ban,  with  your  approval  and  under 
your  suggestion,  and  also  urged  b>  necessity, 
I  made  the  venture  against  overwhelming  odds 
which  fate  has  seen  fit  to  reward  by  giving  me 
the  possession  of  a  great  wealth  in  gold.  Ycu 
also  know  that  in  the  obtaining  of  one  coveted 
means  by  which  I  am  enabled  to  relieve  the  Buf- 
fering and  discomfort  of  others,  I  have  sacri- 
ficed the  companionship  of  her  through  whom 
the  blessing  to  accrue  from  this  new-found 
wealth  would  have  been  dispensed;  and  now 
that  my  life  has  been  clouded  by  sorrow,  and 

139 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

I  shall  no  longer  enjoy  the  home  where  to- 
gether we  strove  in  an  atmosphere  hallowed 
by  an  unselfish  love  to  help  carry  the  burdens 
of  our  fellow  beings,  this  same  injustice  of 
things — the  uncharitableness,  the  unkindness 
from  those  of  whom  we  expect  comfort  while 
in  reverses,  only  to  be  by  them  the  most  neg- 
lected— has  aroused  within  me  emotions  that 
have  been  the  means  of  bringing  before  you 
to-day  a  different  Andy  Cameron  from  the 
one  who  before  was  acting  merely  by  the  sug- 
gestion of  others.  My  purpose  in  the  future 
at  The  Front  and  in  Glengarry  will  be  to  see 
justice  charitably  dispensed:  the  weak  shall  be 
made  strong,  and  from  him  at  The  Gore,  who 
has  grown  powerful  by  his  artful  practices 
against  the  unfortunates  in  our  community,  I 
will  take  and  return  to  them  whom  he  has  so 
oppressively  wronged." 

Donald  Ban  was  astonished  at  the  change  in 
the  man  before  him,  but  he  was  quick  to  recog- 
nize the  genius  of  a  quickly  developing  brain. 

"I  presume,  Cameron,  you  have  made  ref- 
erence to  Kick  Perkins,  who  has  been  more  or 
less  successful  in  bringing  a  great  deal  of  un- 

140 


Cameron  Outlines  His  Policy. 

happiness  into  the  families  residing    in    your 
neighborhood." 

"Remarkably  true  you  have  guessed,  Donald 
Ban,  and  as  my  legal  adviser,  you  are  entitled 
to  my  confidence  in  so  far  as  it  pertains  to  the 
expenditures  I  have  in  contemplation  at  my 
homestead  on  The  Nole  and  among  some  of 
my  neighbors  at  The  Front.  Roughly  speak- 
ing, you  have  deposited  for  me  in  the  several 
banks  down  in  the  city  three  hundred  thousand 
dollars.  As  nearly  as  LeClare  and  myself  can 
figure,  that  amount  represents  our  individual 
worth.  Donald  Ban,"  continued  Cameron, 
thoughtfully  tapping  the  leathern  topped  desk 
at  which  they  sat,  "Nick  Perkins  has  extracted 
from  the  people  of  our  town  at  The  Front  in 
the  neighborhood  of  thirty  thousand  dollars. 
That  amount  he  shall  pay  back  to  these  same 
farmers  during  the  present  Winter  and  the 
coming  Summer.  With  fifty  thousand  dollars 
I  can  erect  a  mansion  upon  the  site  of  my 
farmhouse  at  The  Nole.  Upon  its  completion 
Nick  Perkins  will  buy  this  palace.  He  shall 
buy  it,  Donald  Ban  !" — Cameron  banged  the  ta- 
ble with  his  clenched  fist — "and  eighty  thou- 

141 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

sand  dollars  will  be  my  price.  At  that  time 
thirty  thousand  of  the  amount  will  already  be 
in  the  pockets  of  the  people  whom  he  has 
harassed  for  years,  and  the  actual  cost  of  the 
house  you  will  deposit  for  me  again  in  the  bank 
from  which  we  will  draw  for  expenses  during 
construction.  This  much  you  are  to  know 
from  me,  and  I  am  aware  my  confidence  in  you 
leaves  it  a  secret  between  us.  I  will  bid  you 
good  morning,  and  thank  you,  Donald  Ban. 
My  home  is  with  Laughing  Donald." 


142 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


The  Ice  Raft. 

The  beginning  of  Winter  found  Cameron 
and  LeClare  comfortably  settled  in  the  re- 
fitted home  of  Laughing  Donald;  and  under 
the  gentle  yet  queenly  direction  of  his  wife  the 
members  of  the  new  household  lived  amidst 
surroundings  of  comfort  and  domestic  hap- 
piness. 

In  one  end  of  the  house  a  small  room  with 
windows  looking  out  upon  the  great  river  had 
been  furnished  as  an  office  for  business.  In 
this  room  many  conferences  with  strangers  to 
The  Front  had  been  held  of  late,  and  here 
LeClare  and  the  architect  from  the  city  care- 
fully examined  the  plans  from  which  would  be 
builded  the  House  of  Cariboo.  To  his  friend 
Cameron  had  given  in  charge  that  part  of  his 

143 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

project  which  required  the  experience  of  one 
who  was  familiar  with  the  accompaniments  of 
homes  builded  for  beauty  of  architecture,  dis- 
playing a  refinement  of  taste ;  but  for  himself, 
as  he  explained,  he  wished  to  reserve  the 
privilege  of  dispensing  among  his  neighbors 
the  expenditures  for  materials  which  could  be 
supplied  from  their  farms  while  building  the 
mansion  as  proposed. 

In  this  same  little  room  during  the  Winter 
days  Cameron  and  LeClare  often  visited  to- 
gether. They  talked  of  their  plans  for  the 
future,  of  the  task  before  them  in  the  Spring- 
time, but  never  of  the  camp  in  the  Cariboo, 
nor  their  returning,  which  so  sadly  had  been 
ended.  At  one  of  these  conferences,  on  a 
stormy  day  of  early  Winter,  as  LeClare,  seated 
before  the  fire  in  the  grate,  was  reading  from  a 
selection  of  new  books  he  had  bought  while 
upon  one  of  his  recent  trips  to  the  city,  he  was 
suddenly  interrupted  by  his  friend,  who  till 
then  had  been  idly  standing,  one  hand  upon 
the  window  pane,  the  other  fumbling  the 
watch  chain  at  his  vest. 

"I  have  just  thought,  Edmond,"  he  began, 

144 


The  Ice  Raft. 

"as  I  have  looked  out  upon  this  icebound  ex- 
panse, this  great  river  which  for  months  of  the 
year  is  the  busy  highway  of  so  much  traffic, 
that  now  it  is  bound,  like  ourselves,  to  await 
the  pleasure  of  the  season,  inactive,  only  wait- 
ing. Perhaps  you  may  think  my  deductions 
commonplace,  Edmond ;  but  hear  me  through. 
Since  the  beginning  of  Glengarry's  history 
there  have  been,  to  my  knowledge  at  least,  no 
innovations  to  disturb  the  serenity  of  the  es- 
tablished customs  of  our  people,  and  these 
customs  are  few  to  relate.  In  the  Summer  we 
labor  a  little  and  house  our  crops,  that  in  the 
Winter  we  may  comfortably  live  to  consume 
them.  The  following  year,  and  the  years  to 
come,  the  same  highly  exciting  programme  is 
certain  to  be  followed.  For  the  coming  Sum- 
mer we  have  provided  the  diversion  of  the 
building  of  our  mansion,  but  for  the  lonesome 
days  of  our  snowbound  season  we  have  not 
provided.  Why  not  advertise  our  Summer 
engagement  at  The  Nole,  and  interest  our 
friends  in  advance?" 

Soon    after   the    conversation   held   in   the 
library  at  Laughing  Donald's  a  team  hitched 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

to  a  farmer's  sled  was  slowly  passing  in  the 
roadway.  The  driver,  carefully  selecting  an 
opening  between  the  deep  snowdrifts  piled 
high  on  the  river  embankment,  turned  his 
horses  abruptly  to  the  left  and  drove  them 
down  the  incline  and  out  upon  the  frozen 
river.  Quickly  he  dumped  the  load  of  cobble- 
stones in  a  heap  upon  the  snow  and  ice.  Thus 
returning  at  intervals  of  an  hour  each  day,  Bill 
Blakely  was  engaged  throughout  the  week,  till 
irregular  lines  of  stone  heaps  covering  a  con- 
siderable area  of  the  river  fronting  Cameron's 
house  stood  as  monuments  to  his  labors. 

Since  Cameron  and  LeClare  had  taken  up 
their  residence  with  Laughing  Donald  specu- 
lation over  their  reported  doings  was  at  fever 
heat  in  the  neighborhood.  Fraser,  the  carpen- 
ter, was  frequently  called  on  by  his  friends 
from  The  Gore,  but  his  own  lack  of  informa- 
tion concerning  Cameron's  future  plans 
aroused  to  a  greater  curiosity  the  contingent 
from  the  adjoining  town,  of  which  Nick 
Perkins  was  the  acknowledged  leader.  Still 
smarting  from  the  humiliating  blow  over  his 
failure  to  secure  the  Cameron  homestead, 

146 


The  Ice  Raft. 

Perkins  nursed  his  wrath  in  si?ence.  A  resolve 
had  already  formed  in  his  evil  mind  to  pursue 
even  to  the  finish  the  destinies  of  the  Camerons 
at  The  Front,  and  already  his  machinations 
could  be  seen  at  work  in  the  questions  he  di- 
rected at  those  he  met  as  he  drove  along  the 
snow-heaped  roads. 

It  was  on  a  Saturday,  and  Perkins  was  on 
his  way  to  the  county  town,  when  he  met  Bill 
Blakely  coming  up  into  the  roadway,  after  hav- 
ing deposited  a  load  of  stones  upon  the  ice. 
Filled  with  wonderment  at  what  he  saw,  he  in- 
quired of  Bill  in  his  blandest  tones  what  he 
was  drawing  the  stones  for. 

"Well,  Perkins,"  replied  Bill,  "to  be  truthful 
with  you,  it's  for  a  dollar  a  load  I  am  doing 
it  principally,  but  another  good  reason  is  that 
Cameron  has  asked  me  to  do  it.  If  you  think 
you'd  like  the  job,  go  ask  Cameron.  They  say 
his  credit  is  good.  Even  you  ought  to  know 
that,  Mr.  Perkins,"  and  Bill  passed  on  with- 
out saying  good-day  to  him.  Perkins  bit  his 
lip  and  made  no  reply,  but  drove  on  to  the 
village. 

Other  farmers  from  the  neighborhood  soon 

147 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

began  hauling  to  the  dumping  grounds  on  the 
river  facing  the  farm  at  The  Nole.  Angus 
Ferguson  had  hauled  to  Cameron's  ice  raft,  as 
he  called  it,  the  old  stone  wall  which  had  for 
so  long  disfigured  the  view  in  front  of  his 
house.  Stopping  each  evening  at  the  little  of- 
fice at  Laughing  Donald's,  he  received,  like  the 
rest,  a  dollar  a  load  for  the  number  of  trips  he 
had  made  during  the  day. 

The  work  of  the  farmers  whom  Cameron 
had  seen  fit  to  employ,  and  who  seemed  to  vie 
one  with  another  in  quickly  disposing  of  the 
useless  materials  collected  about  their  farm- 
yards and  disfiguring  their  homes,  progressed 
so  rapidly  that  ere  long  whole  acres  of  the 
frozen  river  front  resembled  a  congested  lum- 
ber yard.  The  fabulous  prices  paid  to  them 
by  Cameron  for  the  worthless  accumulations  ot 
their  farm-yards,  which  he  had  placed  upon  the 
ice  to  be  carried  away  with  the  floods  in  the 
Spring,  caused  a  storm  of  comment,  the  echo 
of  which  came  over  from  The  Gore  in  vol- 
umes of  inquiries. 

"Where  did  Cameron  get  his  money?"  they 
queried.  "And  why  can't  we  get  a  share  of  it 

148 


The  Ice  Raft. 

while  it  lasts?"  For  Nick  Perkins  was  heard 
to  remark  that  "a  fool  from  his  money  was. 
soon  parted." 

While  the  commotion  among  those  engaged 
in  hauling  at  The  Front  was  still  in  progress, 
Bill  Blakely  and  Cameron  were  paying  their 
respects  to  certain  residents  of  The  Gore.  To 
many  of  these  gentlemen  favored  by  a  call  Bill 
was  attached  by  tender  recollections  of  for- 
mer fistic  encounters  at  the  four  corners.  His 
welcome,  of  course,  was  not  always  the  most 
cordial,  but  when  Cameron  announced  very 
quietly  that  Mr.  Blakely  wished  to  buy  a  few 
thousand  of  their  best  cedar  fence  posts  at  a 
price  which  could  not  be  disputed,  they  soon 
became  more  communicative.  "Deliver  the 
posts  at  Mr.  Blakely's,  beginning  to-morrow," 
said  Cameron,  continuing  without  any  further 
parleying :  "You  will  be  paid  by  the  hundred. 
We  will  drive,  Bill,"  and  Cameron  was 
through  with  the  bargaining. 

During  the  next  week  or  two,  from  his  old- 
time  enemies  at  The  Gore,  Blakely  had  pur- 
chased for  himself,  for  Angus  Ferguson  and 
for  Davy  Simpson  a  supply  of  the  best  fence 

149 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

posts  the  county  could  boast.  "Enough,"  as 
Bill  said,  "to  keep  Nick  Perkins  busy  for  three 
months  a-countin'  them,  the  next  time  he 
found  a  mortgage  due  on  a  Cameron's  farm 
over  by  the  way  of  The  Front." 

In  all  the  transactions  of  Cameron  thus  far 
since  his  return  Nick  Perkins  was  able  to  dis- 
cover a  piercing  dart,  truly  thrown  at  the 
hypocrisy  of  his  own  career.  The  subjects  he 
had  chosen  from  among  the  people  upon  whom 
to  lavish  such  expenditures  of  money  were 
always  certain  to  be  those  who  had  either  been 
oppressed  by  him  in  the  past  or  else  consid- 
ered themselves  his  natural  enemies.  Perkins 
knew  of  the  housebuilding  to  commence  in  the 
Spring  at  The  Nole.  for  already  Blakely  was 
completing  the  contract  he  held  to  supply  the 
stone  for  the  masonry  of  the  foundation  walls. 
Another  fact  which  galled  Perkins  to  madness 
was  that  the  farmers  who  had  been  kept  con- 
stantly employed  were,  in  every  case,  those 
against  whom  he  himself  held  a  mortgage,  and 
he  saw  very  plainly  his  prospects  for  eventually 
gaining  their  property  daily  slipping  more 
surely  from  his  grasp. 

150 


The  Ice  Raft. 

The  Spring  season  had  now  arrived,  and  up 
at  The  Nole  a  small  army  of  workmen  were 
engaged  in  removing  the  buildings  which  had 
once  been  occupied  by  Cameron  as  his  home. 
The  return  of  April's  hot  sun  and  warm  winds 
had  loosened  the  grip  which  for  months  held 
the  icebound  river  captive  between  the  islands 
and  shore,  and  suddenly  one  day,  as  the  work- 
men had  quit  for  midday  lunch,  the  long- 
delayed  alarm  was  sounded  that  the  river  was 
breaking  up.  Down  the  main  boat  channel,  as 
far  as  the  eye  could  see,  a  forward  movement 
was  on.  Great  squares  and  chunks  of  ice 
lunged  and  dipped,  then  plunged  forward 
again  like  the  wheeling  and  turning  of  an  army 
of  soldiers.  Over  on  the  shores  of  Castle 
Island  mammoth  cakes  the  size  of  the  roofs  of 
the  buildings  climbed  upward  till  they  broke 
and  toppled  over  by  their  own  weight,  crunch- 
ing and  thumping  and  groaning,  till  a  dull, 
rumbling  noise  like  the  approach  of  an  earth- 
quake could  plainly  be  heard. 

Opposite  to  The  Nole,  extending  in  a  zig- 
zag course  through  the  piles  of  debris,  ran  gap- 
ing cracks  in  the  ice.  All  the  Winter  the 

151 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

irregular  heaps  of  ugliness  which  composed 
the  freight  on  what  was  now  called  "Came- 
ron's Charity  Raft"  had  reminded  those  who 
passed  that  way  of  the  original  methods  em- 
ployed by  one  man  to  relieve  the  condition  of 
his  brother  workers.  The  useless  stone  heaps 
served  no  purpose  upon  the  farms  from 
whence  they  were  taken,  and  the  discarded 
wagon  parts  and  dilapidated  farm  implements 
which  Cameron  had  purchased  from  his  neigh- 
bors had  served  them  only  as  an  encumbrance 
and  nuisance.  Now  they  soon  would  be  be- 
yond annoying  the  sight,  and  their  last  oppor- 
tunity for  usefulness  had  brought  joy  and 
peacefulness  into  many  a  home  along  The 
Front.  As  the  immense  ice  floe  passed  almost 
intact  down  the  channel,  beating  its  way  amidst 
the  warring,  jamming  ice  cakes,  a  ringing 
cheer,  led  by  old  Bill  Blakely  and  joined  by 
the  company  of  workmen,  went  up  for  the 
man  who  had  brought  fortune  and  good  cheer 
into  their  midst. 


CHAPTER  XVIX. 


LeClare  to  ^Prospect  in  Arcadia. 

In  the  early  months  of  Spring,  LeClare  was 
busily  engaged  with  the  architects  and  builders 
at  work  upon  the  mansion  at  The  Nole.  He 
viewed  the  undertaking  from  day  to  day,  which 
for  weeks  seemed  but  a  shapeless  pile  of  board 
and  scantling;  but,  as  the  work  progressed, 
from  out  the  chaos  and  confusion  could  be 
seen  the  growing  outlines  of  the  stately 
columns  and  the  extending  roofs  of  many 
gables.  1-  r 

Nature  had  spread  her  mantle  of  green 
abroad,  and  from  the  islands  of  the  Archi-, 
pelago  nearest  the  shore  LeClare  saw  each 
evening,  as  he  strolled  along  The  Front,  the 
shadows  of  the  dense  foliage  mirrored  upon 

153 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

the  placid  waters  of  the  river.  Then,  as  the 
sun  sank  lower  in  the  west,  and  in  the  gather- 
ing twilight,  as  the  evening  advanced,  the 
boats  of  the  fishermen  stole  out  from  their 
sheltered  coves  and  headed  for  the  spearing 
grounds  away  upon  the  shoals  to  the  south- 
ward. 

Andy's  Dan  was  little  concerned  about  the 
building  operations  going  on  upon  the  site  of 
his  former  abode.  He  held  aloof  from  the 
workmen,  who  were  strangers  to  him,  and  in 
his  silent,  reticent  way  he  resented  the  in- 
trusion upon  the  quiet  and  primitiveness  of 
the  neighborhood.  In  LeClare,  however,  he 
had  found  a  congenial  companion,  and  upon 
several  occasions  he  had  confided  to  his  new 
friend,  whom  he  bound  over  to  secrecy,  the 
exact  spot  over  by  the  dead  channel  where  he 
hooked  the  shining  maskinonge  as  he  rowed 
near  the  rushes  by  the  deep  waters. 

At  this  time  in  their  undertaking  LeClare 
was  finished  with  the  details  of  the  work  upon 
the  mansion  which  he  had  agreed  with  his 
friend  to  superintend.  A  few  days  since  a 
beautifully  designed  river  skiff  had  come  up 

154 


LeClare  to  Prospect  in  Arcadia. 

from  the  city,  and  as  Cameron  and  LeClare 
stood  talking  upon  the  veranda  at  Laughing 
Donald's,  they  could  see  at  a  distance  of  a  few 
boat  lengths  from  the  shore  Andy's  Dan  row- 
ing the  new  craft  up  and  down  the  channel. 
Now  it  flew  through  the  waters  in  answer  to 
the  long,  low  sweep  of  the  spoon-shaped  oars, 
and  now  like  a  race-horse,  responding  to  the 
spurs  in  his  side,  it  sprang  ahead  in  quick 
bounds  as  the  short  strokes  of  the  oarsman 
grappled  with  the  surface  of  the  water.  After 
they  had  viewed  for  a  time  the  skill  of  the 
aquatic  sportsman,  LeClare  turned  to  his 
friend  Cameron  and  thoughtfully  said : 

"Andy,  should  you  wander  over  there  to 
the  southward,  past  the  islands  of  the  Archi- 
pelago and  the  shoals  of  the  marshes,  and  then 
follow  the  mountain  streams  up  their  circuit- 
ous windings,  you  will  come  at  last  to  their 
head,  the  fountain  from  which  continually 
spring  the  waters,  clear  and  pure,  which  unite 
to  form  the  rivers.  Down  the  course  toward 
the  finish  of  their  run  sometimes  the  sparkling 
clearness  of  these  streams  has  become  changed 
to  a  dullness  of  color  by  the  conditions  of  the 

155 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

country  through  which  they  have  passed,  and 
their  life  and  transparency  are  gone.  So  it 
must  be  with  the  streams  of  life.  At  first  the 
waters  down  which  we  glide  are  clear  and 
bright,  but  later  our  course  perchance  may  lie 
through  a  troubled  country,  and  in  the  shal- 
lows we  encounter  the  snags  which  wreck  our 
pleasures  in  passing.  For  a  time  we  endeavor 
to  clear  the  stream  down  which  we  have  been 
floating  by  throwing  about  us  on  every  side 
that  panacea  to  unhappiness,  speculation  or 
adventure.  With  me,  Andy,  the  fountain  of 
my  happiness  lies  in  the  direction  of  the  brooks 
from  the  mountains.  You  are  at  home,  and 
you  have  been  drinking  each  day  of  the  clear 
waters  from  the  springs  of  true  life,  and  now 
it's  my  turn.  I'm  going  back,  following  the 
stream  up  to  that  fountain  where  my  first 
happiness  began.  Out  there  on  the  river  my 
craft  awaits  me,  and  with  your  Dan  and  mine 
we  will  prospect  this  time  in  Arcadia." 


156 


CHAPTER  XX. 


Lucy  Visits  the  Archipelago. 

As  the  best  laid  plans  of  man  fail  often  to 
succeed  against  the  inevitable,  so,  too,  it  is 
often  that  the  intervention  of  time  makes  pos- 
sible what  before  Fate  had  willed  otherwise. 

Lucy  Maynard  still  resided  with  her  parents 
in  the  village  of  Darrington.  Her  married  ex- 
istence had  been  punctuated  by  the  fatal  ill- 
ness of  her  husband,  leaving  her  widowed 
while  yet  in  the  first  year  of  her  wedded  life. 
Seeking  no  new  acquaintances,  she  sweetened 
the  atmosphere  of  her  home,  while  her  pres- 
ence spread  an  angelic  glow  among  the  circle 
of  her  friends.  Hers  was  now  a  sad,  sweet 
face,  illumined  by  a  smile  which  ever  quickly 
sprang  to  her  lips  and  as  fitfully  died  away. 

157 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

In  those  large,  hopeful  eyes,  so  frankly  turned 
upon  you,  was  a  look  of  sadness,  as  of  a  love 
unrequited. 

Early  Summer  had  come  again,  the  schools 
were  closing,  and  with  the  returning  of  friends 
who  had  been  at  colleges  in  distant  cities  a 
flood  of  sweet  recollections  of  years  not  so 
long  past  came  to  Lucy. 

"It  was  down  the  winding  Salmon,"  she 
mused  to  herself.  "Oh,  how  well  I  remem- 
ber, Edmond  at  the  oars  and  I  in  the  stern  of 
the  boat,  trailing  my  fingers  in  the  water  and 
thinking  of  the  future — yes,  that  same  future 
which  has  brought  me  so  much  unhappiness 
already.  But  it  was  of  my  own  bringing. 
Pique  and  disappointment,  they,  too,  played 
their  share  in  my  short  drama.  That  love 
which  was  the  cause  of  urging  me  on  into  the 
bonds  that  restrained  me  from  turning  back 
again  to  the  object  of  my  only  true  affection  is 
the  same  love  which  now  is  fanned  into  a  new 
life  as  often  as  the  incidents  arise  which  bring 
back  the  memories  of  the  past.  On  the  mor- 
row I  will  indulge  my  longing.  It  will  be  the 
anniversary  of  that  day  when  cruel  fate 

158 


Lacy  Visits  the  Archipelago. 

changed  love  into  foolish  resentment,  so  that 
we  drifted  apart,  Edmond  from  me.  With 
Caleb,  our  old  family  servant,  my  confidant, 
my  trusted  friend,  I  will  follow  the  winding 
Salmon  to  the  same  point  of  land,  and  there, 
resting  within  the  basswood  grove,  as  we  did 
on  that  day,  I  will  look  to  find  again  the  tree 
upon  which  we  carved  our  initials  as  we  sat 
beneath  its  shade." 

The  sun  shone  bright  upon  this  day  in  June, 
and  as  Caleb  rounded  the  point  of  land  which 
lay  in  the  shoals  by  the  marshes  he  looked 
backward  over  the  shoulder  nearest  shore, 
carefully  selecting  a  landing.  Lucy  the  while 
watched  intently  a  boat  pushing  out  from  a 
bay  farther  up  the  shore.  A  swiftly  gliding 
boat  it  was,  long  and  set  low  in  the  water. 
Graceful  lines  swept  from  the  bow,  and,  touch- 
ing the  waves  at  the  oar-locks,  rose  again  to 
gently  curve  into  the  rudder  posts  at  the  stern. 
Two  men  were  occupants  of  the  boat,  which 
Caleb  assured  Lucy  was  new  in  those  waters. 
The  man  at  the  oars  bent  to  his  work,  and  in 
response  to  his  long,  swinging  strokes  the 
boat  quickly  disappeared  from  sight,  passing 

159 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

through  a  line  of  thin  rushes  and  making  for 
an  island  across  the  Schneil  Channel. 

Lucy  appeared  strangely  affected.  Caleb 
had  now  beached  his  skiff  in  a  sheltered  cove, 
and  was  waiting,  after  having  called  to  his 
mistress  the  second  time  to  step  ashore.  The 
man  lounging  in  the  boat  of  the  strangers,  and 
guiding  at  the  stern  the  craft  as  it  stole  swiftly 
away  from  shore,  Lucy  followed,  held  by  a 
strange  fascination,  till  he  was  lost  to  view. 

Upon  Tyno's  Point  there  was  a  small  tavern 
run  for  the  accommodation  of  people  fishing 
and  hunting  thereabouts,  and  a  few  cottages 
were  set  back  from  the  shore  fronting  out 
upon  the  expanse  of  water  looking  toward  the 
north  bank  of  the  Archipelago.  Caleb  went 
to  exchange  gossip  with  the  fishermen  stand- 
ing about  the  shore,  while  Lucy  strolled  alone 
toward  the  basswood  grove. 

Still  and  quiet  was  everything  in  Nature. 
The  bright  beams  of  the  noonday  sun  fell  in 
quivering  rays  across  the  sight.  Out  upon  the 
river  not  a  ripple  disturbed  its  glassy  surface. 
From  up  the  Schneil  Channel  came  the  chatter- 
ing noises  of  a  water  hen,  and  the  piping  of 

160 


Lucy  Visits  the  Archipelago. 

snipes,  who  called  from  the  rush  beds  farther 
up  the  river.  Overhead  in  the  trees  a  pair  of 
golden  robins  sang  as  they  builded  their  nest 
far  out  on  an  overhanging  limb.  The  bum- 
blebees hurried  past  on  their  way  to  the  blos- 
soming clover  patch,  and  the  distant  call  of  a 
loon  came  from  over  the  waters.  Lucy  stood 
beneath  the  high  branching  trees,  and  in  the 
distance,  toward  the  village  of  Darrington,  she 
saw  the  weather-vane  of  the  church  steeple 
glistening  in  the  sun. 

"It  must  be  near  here,"  she  thought.  "Yes, 
it  was  at  a  tree-trunk  like  the  one  in  yonder 
clump,"  and  thither  she  went,  trailing  her  leg- 
horn hat  by  the  ribbon  strings  through  the  tall 
grasses.  Sweet  was  the  picture  of  grace  and 
beauty  left  alone  with  her  thoughts  of  love. 
"Yes,  it  was  here.  Yes,  yes,  this  is  the  tree, 
for  there  are  the  marks,  the  initials  we  cut." 

Suddenly  she  paused  in  her  delight,  for  she 
had  made  another  discovery.  Some  one  had 
been  before  her.  Around  the  foot  of  the  very 
tree,  and  leading  away  from  it  toward  the  river 
bank,  the  grass  had  been  recently  trampled. 
Still  in  her  surprise,  curiosity  led  her  to  follow 

161 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

the  path  through  the  grass  to  the  shore.  There 
she  saw  the  fresh  imprints  upon  the  sand.  Im- 
mediately she  recognized  the  small  bay,  whose 
extending  bank  had  partially  concealed  the 
strangers  as  they  rowed  away  earlier  in  the 
day. 

A  wistful,  excited  look  had  come  over  the 
childlike  face  of  Lucy.  One  hand  pressed  her 
heaving  bosom,  while  with  the  other  she  clung 
for  support  to  a  bending  alder  tree.  Thoughts 
were  in  her  mind  that  she  dared  not  entertain 
— an  apprehension  that  she  had  but  just  missed 
seeing  the  lover  of  her  childhood,  who  possibly 
had  returned  like  a  spirit  from  heaven  to  re- 
new the  anniversary  of  a  time  long  past,  but 
ever  fresh  in  memory.  It  was  then  as  she 
stood,  her  frail  figure  swayed  to  and  fro  by  the 
flood  of  passionate  recollections,  that  coming 
from  behind  her  sounded  the  voice  of  Caleb, 
her  protector. 

"We  will  row  away  by  the  Schneil  Channel, 
Lucy,"  he  said,  "and,  going  by  the  rush  banks, 
touch  at  the  Caristitee  Island.  The  old  chief 
of  the  tribe  of  the  St.  Regis  will  be  glad  at 
our  coming,  and  once  more  he  will  say  to  us 

162 


Lucy  Visits  the  Archipelago. 

that  he  is  the  friend  of  the  palefaces." 

Caleb  True  lived  quietly  on  in  his  way, 
which  called  for  no  criticism,  aroused  no  com- 
ment, enjoying  the  while  the  respect  of  those 
who  knew  him.  He  might  have  been  the 
miller,  the  town  gardener  or  an  unassuming 
deacon  in  one  of  the  churches,  but,  as  it  was, 
he  had  lived  very  long  in  the  family  of  Lucy's 
father,  tended  the  garden  and  cared  for  the 
household  during  the  week,  and  upon  the 
Sunday  he  proudly  officiated  as  sexton  in  one 
of  the  village  churches.  To  Lucy  he  had  been 
a  second  father,  and  to  him  in  childhood  she 
went  for  sympathy  as  she  grieved  over  some 
fancied  injustice  done  her.  Caleb  had  known 
the  romance  of  her  school  days,  and  he  was 
now  in  full  possession  of  the  innermost 
thoughts  of  her  soul,  although  she  had  not 
confided  to  him  that  the  longing  of  the  re- 
turned love  of  her  girlhood  was  driving  her 
forward  in  a  mad  desire  to  discover  his 
whereabouts. 

While  Caleb  chatted  with  the  fishing  guides 
and  river  men  at  Tyno's  Point  he  gained  the 
information  that  for  several  days  past  the 

163 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

same  quickly  speeding  boat  observed  by  Lucy 
had  passed  and  re-passed  among  the  islands, 
going  from  place  to  place  with  a  restlessness 
and  uncertainty  of  route  altogether  unusual 
among  the  frequenters  of  the  perch  banks  or 
the  haunts  of  the  wily  pike.  Once  they  had 
touched  at  the  Point,  but  only  to  inquire  of  the 
landlord  for  a  lodging  should  they  wish  to  re- 
turn. "Handsome  and  strong,"  they  said  that 
he  was,  "and  with  the  air  of  a  city  stranger; 
but  again  swiftly  they  glided  away,  and  into 
the  nearest  rushes,  where  soon  was  hid  from 
them  the  beautiful  skiff  of  the  boatmen,  but 
they  saw  over  the  tops  of  the  swaying  reeds  the 
heads  of  the  wandering  oarsmen  as  they 
crossed  to  the  Caristitee,  and  from  there  later, 
as  the  darkness  came  upon  them,  the  light  of 
their  camp  fire  shone  on  the  point  of  the 
island." 

At  once  Caleb  confided  to  Lucy  the  hopes 
which  had  risen  within  him,  and  together  they 
hurried  to  pursue  them.  Soon  they  had 
crossed  the  Schneil  Channel.  Onward  they 
sped,  in  their  haste  going  through  the  narrow 
passes  cut  by  a  current  of  swift  running  wa- 

164 


Lucy  Visits  the  Archipelago. 

ters  feeding  the  expanse  of  a  broad  lagoon. 
Meanwhile  Caleb,  a  poor  match  for  the  fleet- 
winged  oarsmen  who  unconsciously  fled  away 
in  the  distance,  was  fast  exhausting  his 
strength. 


165 


CHAPTER  XXI. 
Under  the  Initialed  Tree. 


Coming  at  last  to  the  island,  they  saw  the 
remains  of  a  camp  fire,  and  fluttering  by  the 
side  of  the  charred  rocks  Lucy  discovered 
among  the  ashes  the  remains  of  a  half-burnt 
parchment,  upon  which  had  been  written  an 
address,  and  still  upon  the  fragment,  but  dis- 
colored, was  a  name  which  to  Lucy  had  been 
lost  but  never  forgotten.  To  Caleb  in  breath- 
less haste  she  ran  with  the  paper. 

"Look,"  she  cried,  "  'tis  the  name  of  Le- 
Clare,  of  my  Edmond!  My  heart  tells  me 
truly,  he  is  here  in  the  lakes  of  St.  Francis. 
Among  the  islands  of  the  Archipelago  we  must 
•go  search  for  him.  True  love  will  seek  out 
the  path  of  his  wanderings,  and  before  the 

1G6 


Under  the  Initialed  Tree. 

passing  of  another  sun  two  thirsting  spirits 
shall  unite,  to  wander  no  more  in  darkness." 

Among  the  trees  on  the  point  of  the  island, 
curling  upwards  in  ringlets  of  blue,  rose  the 
smoke  from  the  tepees  of  the  Indians.  Old 
and  decrepit,  but  ever  a  friend  to  the  white 
man,  their  chieftain,  Caristitee,  sat  in  the 
smoke  of  his  camp  fire. 

"Two  suns  gone  by,  my  daughter,  he  sat 
where  you  are  now  reclining,  a  paleface 
wearied  of  rowing,  another  sad-hearted  and 
restless.  At  dawn  very  early  they  departed. 
Down  past  the  islands  and  marshes  their  boat 
glides  on  like  a  phantom,  and  only  at  night 
are  they  seen,  by  the  blazing  camp  fires,  as  they 
rest  from  their  endless  going." 

Lucy  listened,  her  heart  filled  with  sweet- 
ness, to  the  sayings  of  the  good  Caristitee. 
Overhead  the  skies  shed  a  lustrous  light,  and 
out  on  the  waters  around  them  a  stillness  had 
come  with  the  darkness.  Filled  was  her  heart 
with  sweet  dreams  of  love,  and  till  the  dawn  of 
the  coming  day  Lucy  slept,  her  head  upon  the 
shoulder  of  Caleb,  not  awakening  till  the  sun 
in  the  east  came  up  in  the  midst  of  Arcadia. 

167 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

At  this  early  hour  in  the  hazy  light  of  dawn 
they  saw  a  column  of  smoke  away  on  a  distant 
island.  Thither  they  headed  their  course. 
Drawing  nearer  among  the  cluster  of  islands, 
they  watched  for  the  camp  of  the  strangers. 
Quickly  the  day  was  passing;  no  sight  had 
they  caught  of  the  boatmen,  and  Caleb  had 
tired  of  the  rowing.  Lucy  scanned  closely 
every  island  in  passing,  piercing  with  a 
searching  look  the  rush  banks  that  lined  the 
channels  through  which  the  boat  silently 
glided.  Hopefully  she  encouraged  poor  Ca- 
leb, saying  love  would  reward  his  exertions 
and  lighten  the  way  of  their  going.  At  last 
they  turned  their  boat  homeward,  through 
lakes  where  myriads  of  water  lilies  swayed 
and  dipped  with  the  waves  as  they  came,  then 
reaching  the  shoals  of  the  Salmon,  the  sand 
bars  across  which  they  were  passing  shone 
white  through  the  clear,  limpid  waters.  Soon 
Caleb,  wearied  of  rowing,  threw  himself  down 
at  last  to  rest  himself  upon  the  banks  of  the 
Point  of  old  Tyno. 

Restless,   still   following  her  heart's   long- 
ing, Lucy  sought  out  again  the  grove  and  the 

168 


Under  the  Initialed  Tree. 

tree  where  before  she  had  missed  her  lover  by 
only  a  minute  too  late.  In  a  moment  of  pas- 
sionate abandon  she  threw  herself  at  the  foot 
of  the  tree,  held  by  memories  strong,  so  closely 
were  they  linked  with  the  past. 

Into  the  same  bay,  coming  nearer,  ever 
nearer,  darted  the  boat  which  moved  so  swift- 
ly, urged  on  its  course  by  the  sinewy  arms  of 
the  oarsman.  Lightly  from  the  seat  in  the 
stern  sprang  the  athletic  figure  of  the  stranger. 
Hurriedly  he  looked  about  the  shore,  then 
leisurely  sauntered  toward  the  grove,  where 
upon  another  day  he  had  come  and  gone  so 
mysteriously.  Not  far  had  he  been  when  be- 
fore him  he  saw,  extended  at  the  foot  of  a 
basswood  tree,  the  figure  of  a  girlish  maiden. 
One  arm  encircled  the  tree  trunk,  while  the 
other  lay  limp  at  her  side. 

At  a  respectful  distance  stood  the  stranger. 
"She  is  asleep — it  is  Lucy,"  he  stammered, 
"and  under  this  tree!  What  can  it  mean? 
Lucy,  I  love  you!  My  darling!  why  can't  I 
tell  it  you  now?"  he  exclaimed,  and  uncon- 
sciously he  outstretched  his  arms. 

By  the  angel  of  love  she  had  been  awakened 

169 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

and  told  that  her  lover  was  near.  In  an  in- 
stant his  manly  form  was  before  her.  "It  is  I, 
Lucy.  Be  not  afraid,  but  first  tell  me,  why 
are  you  here  ?" 

"I  am  free,  Edmond,"  she  cried,  "and  I  love 
you,  and  I  came  here  to  tell  it  alone,  that  I 
should  wait  for  you  now  and  forever."  With 
a  great  flood  of  joy,  Edmond  clasped  to  the 
heart  his  Lucy.  Then  they  knelt  as  on  that 
day  of  yore,  and  the  stroke  which  then  was 
omitted  now  they  cut  in  the  frame  on  the  tree. 


170 


CHAPTER  XXII. 
The  Mystery  of  the  Comer  Stones. 


Blakely,  with  the  neighbors  whom  he  em- 
ployed, had  completed  the  excavations  for  the 
foundation  walls  and  hauled  the  stone  and 
mortar  in  readiness  for  the  masons.  Four 
squares  of  granite  had  been  drawn  to  The 
Xole  from  the  railroad  station,  and  it  was 
whispered  among  the  workmen  that  their  em- 
ployer would  personally  direct  the  setting  of 
the  corner  stones. 

For  several  days,  four  of  the  master  masons 
were  engaged  in  carefully  cutting  into  the  cen- 
ter of  each  of  the  squares  of  granite  a  bowl- 
shaped  cavity.  Cameron,  who  had  usually 
busied  himself  in  other  things  which  kept  him 
away  from  The  Xole,  came  frequently  now  to 

171 


The  House  of  Cariboo, 

inspect  the  mysterious  hollows  being  made  in 
the  granite  boulders. 

Soon  the  work  of  the  masons  was  com- 
pleted; then  by  the  aid  of  crane  and  derrick, 
they  lowered  into  position  the  corner  stones 
just  as  the  hour  arrived  for  labor  to  cease. 
Cameron  remained  till  the  last  man  had  gone, 
examining  the  granite  blocks,  which  he  found 
were  placed  securely  in  position,  resting  upon 
their  cement  foundation. 

Next  morning  when  the  men  came  to  resume 
work,  they  saw  two  others  there  before  them, 
Cameron  and  the  tall,  erect  figure  of  Donald 
Ban,  his  lawyer  friend.  The  wonder  at  find- 
ing their  employer  so  early  at  the  works  was 
quickly  followed  by  a  second  surprise,  more 
startling  than  the  first.  The  cavities  in  the 
corner  stones  had  been  filled  during  the  night 
and  a  layer  of  cement  covered  the  tops  of  the 
hollow  openings  and  was  spread  evenly  with 
the  surface  of  the  granite  rock. 

"Lay  the  wall,  men,"  Cameron  ordered  in  his 
calm,  inflexible  voice.  "We  wish  to  remain 
here  till  the  corner  stones  have  been  walled 
under." 

172 


The  Mystery  of  the  Corner  Stones. 

At  noon  hour  the  burden  of  the  dis- 
cussion among  the  assembled  laborers 
was  to  ascribe  a  reason  for  Cameron 
and  the  lawyer  being  among  them  in 
the  morning.  In  the  midst  of  the  debate, 
an  exclamation  of  delight  came  from  one  of 
their  number,  who  had  been  apart  from  his 
fellows  in  the  basement,  and  he  held  up  to  view 
a  ten-dollar  gold  piece  he  had  found  in  the  dirt 
at  his  feet.  Immediately  a  mad  hunt  was  in 
progress  around  the  foundation  walls,  and  par- 
ticularly at  the  corner  stones.  Other  gold 
pieces  were  discovered,  and  among  them  a 
twenty-dollar  gold  piece  was  taken  from  the 
miniature  gold  diggings. 

When  the  excitement  had  abated  somewhat, 
the  foreman  of  the  gang  of  laborers,  with  a 
wise  and  important  look  on  his  face,  the  while 
assuming  a  dramatic  pose,  pointed  to  the  cor- 
ner stones,  and  in  tragic  tones,  he  said :  "Boys, 
they  are  full  of  'em !"  and  a  quiet  akin  to  that 
resting  over  a  haunted  house  fell  upon  the 
superstitions  laborers. 

The  trick  had  worked  well,  for  very  soon  the 
whole  county  would  hear  that  their .  mysteri- 

173 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

ous  neighbor  had  buried  a  fortune  in  gold  in 
each  corner  stone  of  the  House  of  Cariboo. 
Cameron  quickly  heard  of  the  gold  finds  made 
up  at  the  works  at  The  Nole  and  he  smiled 
with  great  pleasure  when  he  thought  of  the 
look  of  blank  despair  v/hich  would  come  over 
the  face  of  Nick  Perkins,  on  his  finding  that 
the  worthless  bits  of  scrap  iron  which  filled  the 
cavities  of  the  four  corners  of  the  mansion 
were  all  that  represented  the  vast  sums  in  gold 
that  he  imagined  reposed  in  the  foundation 
'vaUs  of  his  purchase. 


174 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


Fraser  Confers  with  Perkins. 


The  eccentric  methods  which  Cameron  had 
employed  since  his  return  to  The  Front  had 
put  the  people  of  Glengarry  into  a  state  of  ex- 
citement and  wild  speculation,  which  was 
greatly  interfering  with  the  wonted  quiet  and 
decorum  of  its  peaceably  inclined  citizens. 
While  the  House  of  Cariboo,  as  it  was  now 
generally  called,  neared  completion,  and  the 
majestic  columns  which  supported  the  high 
arched  domes  of  its  rotunda  stood  out  in  bold 
relief  against  the  scaffolding  surrounding  the 
unfinished  parts,  extravagant  reports  were 
being  circulated  abroad  in  Glengarry,  even 

175 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

reaching  to  the  distant  city,  of  the  enormous 
expenditures  made  by  Cameron  on  the  mansion 
he  was  about  to  occupy. 

As  the  undertakings  of  Cameron  assumed 
form,  and  the  motive  for  many  of  his  peculiar 
trades  with  his  neighbors  became  apparent, 
another  individual  of  whom  we  have  fre- 
quently spoken  also  began  to  figure  con- 
spicuously before  the  people  of  the  county. 

The  purposes  of  Nick  Perkins  for  the  past 
few  months  had  suffered  so  many  humiliating 
defeats  before  his  constituents  at  The  Gore  and 
his  enemies  at  The  Front,  that  even  his  sym- 
pathizers and  old  time  henchmen  of  his  town, 
of  late  had  shunned  meeting  him  as  he  went 
about  at  his  home.  Every  note  and  mortgage 
which  he  held  against  the  farmers  and  neigh- 
bors of  the  two  towns  had  been  paid  back  to 
him  with  interest  to  date,  and  in  every  case  the 
proceeds  had  come  to  his  debtors  through  the 
liberal  wages  paid  by  Cameron  for  work  upon 
the  undertakings  he  had  put  under  way. 
Thirty  thousand  dollars  had  been  paid  out  for 
various  kinds  of  work  done,  either  directly  by 
Cameron,  or  through  his  friends,  Blakely, 

176 


Fraser  Confers  with  Perkins. 

Simpson  or  Ferguson.  Happiness  reigned  sfc- 
preme  in  the  families  of  the  two  towns,  and 
each  neighbor  felt  that  he  could  look  the  other 
full  in  the  face  with  a  frankness  which  meant 
freedom  from  the  depressing  coils  of  debt. 

Perkins,  they  said,  could  no  longer  impose 
himself  upon  them.  His  money-getting, 
money-lending  and  hypocritical  pose  among 
the  people  of  the  two  towns  would  no  longer 
be  tolerated.  By  Cameron,  the  man  whom  he 
had  sought  so  diligently  to  enclose  in  his  net, 
he  had  been  thrown  from  his  pedestal  of  deceit, 
and  at  present  he  was  the  object  of  ridicule 
throughout  the  county. 

William  Fraser,  the  carpenter,  still  continued 
to  employ  himself  in  the  capacity  of  the  official 
gossip  of  Glengarry,  but  the  interested  listeners 
among  his  neighbors  who  would  bid  him  wel- 
come had  become  so  few  that  like  his  patron, 
Nick  Perkins,  he  found  the  vocation  which 
once  had  placed  him  in  popular  demand,  was  at 
present  in  rank  disfavor.  His  neighbors  had 
remarked  that  even  though  great  activity  was 
apparent  in  the  building  trades  at  The  Front, 
Fraser  remained  unemployed.  Bill  Blakely 

177 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

sarcastically  queried  of  him  one  day,  as  a  num- 
ber of  men  of  a  like  occupation  from  an  ad- 
joining town  stood  about  the  door  to  Davy 
Simpson's  busy  forge,  "Whether  he  didn't 
think  that  in  balancing  on  the  top  rail,  specu- 
lating on  the  return  of  Cameron  from  the  gold 
fields,  he  had  jumped  off  upon  the  wrong  side 
of  the  fence?  Of  course,"  Bill  added  with  a 
chuckle  as  his  goatee  moved  up  and  down, 
"you  had  the  hull  county  with  you,  for  Perkins 
had  jumped  the  same  way  before  you." 

As  near  as  could  be  observed,  the  shrine  to 
which  Fraser  had  come  with  his  troubles,  and 
the  confession  of  the  failure  of  his  accomplish- 
ments to  charm  as  of  yore  his  susceptible 
hearers,  was  the  Court  of  Perkins.  Deserted 
as  he  knew  it  to  be,  nevertheless  here  we  find 
him  come  again,  but  this  time  a  smile,  a  grin, 
covered  his  face,  for  he  had  a  choice  bit  of 
gossip  for  Perkins — a  pretty  little  ambush  ar- 
ranged by  Cameron  into  which  Fraser  and  Per- 
kins fell  without  the  least  suspicion.  Perkins 
bade  his  caller  welcome,  and  in  his  usual  cring- 
ing, insinuating  manner,  noiselessly  sliding  in 
his  peculiar  gait  about  the  room,  he  finally  sat 

178 


Fraser  Confers  'with  Perkins. 

down  on  the  edge  of  his  chair,  tipping  it 
forward. 

"Mr.  Perkins,"  he  said,  rubbing  his  hands 
together  in  glee,  "our  time  has  come.  It's  all 
up  with  Cameron.  Just  as  you  said,  Mr.  Per- 
kins, just  as  you  always  said,  a  fool  from  his 
money  is  easy  to  part,  and  that's  what  it's  come 
to  now,  and  I  come  right  over  to  tell  you,  Mr. 
Perkins,  for  I  knew  they  would  have  to  come 
to  you  yet." 

Meanwhile  Perkins  drew  a  chair  to  the  cen- 
tre of  the  room  and  seated  himself  before  his 
caller.  Every  movement  he  made  showed  the 
intense  interest  Fraser  had  aroused.  "Is  it 
something  about  Cameron's  finances  giving 
out,  you  have  heard,  Fraser,  or  is  it  something 
else  we  both  ought  to  know  ?  We  are  alone  in 
this,  Fraser — alone,  you  understand." 

"Yes,  yes,  Mr.  Perkins,"  eagerly  replied  the 
tattling  carpenter.  "I  heard  it  by  a  mere 
chance.  Why,  they  don't  think  I  know  a  word 
about  it.  You  see/''  he  went  on,  leaning  far- 
ther forward  toward  his  eager  listener,  "I  heard 
that  some  mouldings  for  the  new  house  were 
coming  up  from  the  city  last  night,  and  I 

179 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

thought  I  would  go  back  to  the  station  and  see 
what  they  looked  like.  Well,  a  couple  of  tall 
city  men  got  off  the  train,  and  while  I  was 
looking  over  the  cabinet  work  which  come  up 
to  the  station,  one  of  them  comes  over  and 
reads  the  tag  on  the  bundles,  and  says  he  to  the 
other  one,  'Well,  here  is  some  more  of  our 
firm's  stuff  sent  up  for  this  job  of  Cameron's, 
but  I  guess  we  will  cabbage  this  lot,'  says  he, 
'till  we  see  the  color  of  his  money  for  what  he's 
already  put  into  that  house,'  and  the  other  chap 
up  and  says,  'The  best  thing  we  can  do  is  to  get 
this  man  Cameron  to  consent  to  a  public  sale 
of  this  house  to  satisfy  the  claims  of  his  credi- 
tors. There  will  be  no  one  here  except  a  few 
of  the  largest  creditors  who  will  have  money 
enough  to  bid  on  the  property,  and  some  one  of 
us  will  get  a  beautiful  house  cheap.  We  can 
keep  this  thing  quiet,  and  there  will  be  at  least 
thirty  thousand  dollars  to  divide  up  between 
us.' " 

"Where  did  they  go?"  asked  Perkins, 
eagerly. 

"Well,  they  come  over  to  The  Front  in  one 
of  Cameron's  wagons  and  the  last  I  see  of  them 

180 


Fraser  Confers  with  Perkins. 

was  down  by  Laughing  Donald's.  They 
weren't  there  this  morning,  so  I  guess  they 
went  up  to  the  town  last  night." 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


Perkins  Again  Outwitted. 

For  several  minutes  after  Fraser  the  car- 
penter had  finished  telling  his  story,  Perkins 
was  silent.  From  force  of  habit  he  ran  his 
fingers  upward  through  the  scant  growth  of 
reddish  side  whiskers  upon  his  face,  and  by  the 
changes  in  expression  passing  continually  over 
his  countenance,  Fraser  was  aware  that  the  in- 
formation he  brought  had  greatly  interested 
him. 

"There  can  be  no  doubt,  I  suppose,  Fraser," 
began  Perkins,  very  slowly  pronouncing  his 
words,  "about  there  being  a  large  amount  of 
gold  deposited  in  the  foundations  of  the 
house?" 

"There   is   no  doubt  of   it,   Mr.    Perkins," 

182 


Perkins  Again  Outwitted. 

eagerly  answered  Fraser,  again  tipping  for- 
ward upon  the  front  legs  of  the  chair.  "Came- 
ron didn't  want  it  known,  you  see,  but  it's  the 
gold  pieces  they  lost  in  the  cellar  that  spoiled 
his  plan,  and  now  it  seems  he  isn't  worth  the 
half  he  thought  he  was." 

"That's  it,  Fraser,  about  as  I  thought  it 
would  be,"  continued  Perkins,  well  satisfied 
with  the  turn  Cameron's  affairs  seemed  to  have 
taken.  "His  gold  that  he  brought  back  from 
the  Cariboo  Mountains  has  not  turned  out  at 
the  government  mint  to  be  near  what  he 
thought,  so  his  creditors  in  the  city  are  going 
to  close  in  on  him  quick  and  get  what  they 
can.  That's  about  the  case  as  I  see  it,  Fraser, 
and  I  think  our  turn  has  come,  just  as  you  have 
said.  Oh,  by  the  way,  Fraser,"  as  if  suddenly 
recollecting,  "where  is  the  young  friend  of 
Cameron — LeClare — the  city  chap  who  came 
back  with  him?" 

"Oh,  he's  gone.  Went  away  to  see  his  peo- 
ple, they  say  over  at  The  Front,  but  I  guess 
he's  a  wise  one,  eh,  Perkins?  Saw  what  was 
coming  and  got  out  in  time." 

"It  has  been    pretty    rough    sailing  for  us, 

183 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

Fraser,  since  Cameron  returned,  and  although 
I  have  gotten  back  through  him  from  the  farm- 
ers around  here  over  thirty  thousand  dollars, 
yet  I  am  poorer  by  not  being  able  to  let  the 
loans  rest.  You  understand?" 

"Yes,  I  see,  Mr.  Perkins.  Bill  Blakely  says 
you  have  lost  fifty  thousand  by  being  beat  out 
on  foreclosing,  and  they  all  seem  to  be  laugh- 
ing about  it." 

''Yes,  and  they  think  they  had  a  big  joke  on 
you  and  me,  eh,  Fraser?  Well,  now  we  will 
see  who  will  laugh  loudest  and  the  last." 

With  this  last  thrust  Perkins  bounded  up, 
and  hurrying  to  the  door  in  his  waddling  gait, 
he  shaded  his  eyes  with  his  hands  and  scanned 
the  cloudless  sky.  Turning  again  to  Fraser, 
he  said:  "I  will  have  that  Cameron  house 
before  the  week  is  out.  My  reputation  has 
been  hurt  by  Cameron.  My  business  is  gone, 
and  he  has  made  me  a  joke  for  the 
whole  county.  Now  I'll  turn  the  laugh  on 
him.  I  will  go  up  to  the  county  clerk  at  once, 
and  if  there  have  been  arrangements  made  for 
a  sale  of  the  property  or  a  transfer  to  his  credi- 
tors, I  will  soon  know  it.  Now  you  go  back  to 

184 


Perkins  Again  Outwitted. 

The  Front,  Fraser,  and  find  out  what  you  can. 
I  will  meet  you  at  the  four  corners  on  my  re- 
turn." 

The  twilight  of  the  June  evening  had  faded 
into  the  darkness  of  night  and  Fraser  still 
waited  by  the  door  to  his  shop.  Presently  a 
familiar  rattle  of  the  wheels  of  an  approaching 
wagon  announced  the  coming  of  Perkins. 
Fraser  advanced  from  the  door  of  his  carpen- 
ter shop  and  met  the  tardy  Perkins  in  the  road. 

"Ah,  good  evening,  Fraser,"  began  the 
money  lender  in  his  blandest  tones,  and  Fraser 
knew  his  trip  to  the  county  town  had  placed 
him  in  possession  of  favorable  facts  concern- 
ing the  supposed  financial  embarrassment  of 
Cameron.  "Anything  new,  Fraser?" 

"Nothing  much,  Mr.  Perkins,  but  more 
strangers  were  hanging  about  The  Nole  to- 
day. I  couldn't  get  near  enough  to  hear  what 
was  up.  They  looked  over  the  new  house  and 
then  went  down  the  road  to  Laughing  Don- 
ald's. They  are  staying  there  to-night." 

"Very  good,  very  good,  Fraser.  Now  about 
LeClare.  Have  you  seen  him,  or  do  you  know 
where  he  is?" 

185 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

"I  don't  know  exactly,  Mr.  Perkins,  but  I  am 
told  that  Andy's  Dan  is  away  with  him." 

"There  is  a  doubt  there,  Eraser,  the  only 
weak  spot  in  our  scheme.  Up  at  the  county 
seat  I  see  where  they  have  arranged  for 
a  quick  sale.  They  were  to  do  it  on 
the  quiet.  They  have  advertised  ac- 
cording to  law,  and  with  the  consent 
of  Cameron's  lawyer,  Donald  Ban,  the  city 
creditors  are  to  meet  at  The  Nole,  and  by  an 
arrangement  among  themselves,  will  bid  in  the 
house,  and  just  enough  to  cover  current  bills 
on  hand.  Now  Cameron  is  in  a  pinch.  They 
have  sprung  this  thing  on  him  suddenly.  He 
can't  locate  his  friend  LeClare,  and  these  city 
chaps  are  after  his  house  at  half  the  cost.  Here 
is  our  plan,  Fraser.  Say  not  a  word  of  what 
we  know.  The  sale  is  on  Thursday  at  ten  in 
the  morning.  This  is  Tuesday.  I  want  the 
house.  These  men  from  the  city  want  about 
thirty  thousand  between  them  as  their  share  of 
their  slick  game.  I  can  afford  to  overbid  that 
amount  because  it  is  in  the  foundation  and 
they  don't  know  it.  I  have  found  that  a  re- 
ceipt is  on  file  in  the  government  mint  down  in 

186 


Perkins  Again  Outwitted. 

the  city,  that  this  amount  was  drawn  out  by 
Cameron  and  we  have  evidence  that  it  was 
placed  there.  It  is  a  sure  thing,  Fraser,  that  I 
get  Cameron's  house  Thursday  morning.  His 
only  hope  is  that  his  friend  LeClare  may  turn 
up  before  the  sale.  You  must  be  careful  and 
quiet,  Fraser,  and  leave  the  rest  to  me.  I  will 
meet  you  at  The  Nole  Thursday  morning  a  few 
minutes  only  before  ten." 

They  bade  each  other  a  half -whispered  good 
night,  but  as  their  shadows  retreated  in  the 
darkness,  another  dark  object  jumped  up  out 
of  the  ditch  at  the  opposite  side  of  the  road- 
way. It  was  the  figure  of  a  man,  cloth  cap  in 
hand,  who,  waiting  only  long  enough  to  take 
an  enormous  chew  out  of  a  plug  of  tobacco, 
then  sauntered  at  a  safe  distance  from  the 
others  down  the  roadway,  past  the  store,  the 
cheese  factory,  and  on  toward  home. 


187 


CHAPTER  XXV. 
Donald  Ban  at  <The  Front 


Meanwhile,  at  Laughing  Donald's,  Cameron 
had  carefully  concealed  the  accomplices  he  had 
brought  up  from  the  city  to  aid  him  in  ful- 
filling the  most  delicate  part  of  his  whole  un- 
dertaking. Through  Bill  Blakely  he  knew 
positively  of  the  moves  to  be  made  by  Perkins 
that  morning  at  the  sale,  and  further,  he  had 
arranged  with  LeClare,  who,  accompanied  by 
Andy's  Dan,  was  spending  the  night  upon  the 
accommodating  banks  of  Castle  Island,  oppo- 
site The  Front  in  the  Archipelago  about  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  distant  from  the  mainland. 
By  a  signal  from  Blakely,  displayed  at  The 
Nole,  LeClare  was  to  pull  over  in  haste  to  The 
Front  or  remain  where  he  was  till  the  sale  had 
been  completed. 

188 


Donald  Ban  at  The  Front. 

Thursday  morning  had  arrived  and  the 
strangers  from  the  city,  representing  the  sup- 
posed creditors  who  had  forced  Cameron  into 
premature  bankruptcy,  were  roaming  at  large 
over  the  House  of  Cariboo.  Then  as  the  hour 
of  the  sale  approached,  they  assembled  at  the 
east  end  of  the  broad  veranda,  from  whence  an 
uninterrupted  view  of  the  river  and  islands  of 
the  expanse  of  the  Lake  St.  Francis  stretches 
away  to  the  eastward. 

Gathered  about  the  house  and  standing  in 
groups  around  the  veranda  were  the  workmen 
who  were  still  engaged  at  The  Nole.  They 
talked  in  a  hushed  undertone,  and  as  Cameron 
and  the  tall,  erect  figure  of  Donald  Ban  came 
slowly  up  the  hill,  the  hum  of  their  voices  died 
away  entirely.  A  few  of  the  near  neighbors 
were  present,  and  as  Donald  Ban,  who  was  to 
act  as  the  referee  agreed  upon  by  both  sides, 
took  up  his  position  upon  the  veranda,  he  saw 
nearing  the  outskirts  of  the  assembled  group 
our  worthy  friend  Nicholas  Perkins  and  his 
companion  Fraser,  the  carpenter.  Mr.  Cam- 
eron had  selected  an  inconspicuous  place  from 
\vhere  he  could  easily  witness  the  proceedings 

189 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

without  himself  being  too  much  in  evidence. 

Baring  his  head,  beginning  his  introductory 
remarks,  Donald  Ban  spoke  quietly:  "Gen- 
tlemen, neighbors,  and  friends : — I  am  here  be- 
fore you  in  the  capacity  of  my  profession  as  a 
lawyer.  I  am  here  also  as  the  confidant  of  one 
of  the  most  interested  parties  to  this  proceed- 
ing, and  I  am  also  come  to  see  justice  fairly 
dispensed.  We  in  Glengarry  are  more  familiar 
with  the  circumstances  which  have  led  up  to 
the  building  of  this  magnificent  structure,  than 
those  among  us  who  are  recently  come  from 
a  distant  city.  The  motives  which  my  worthy 
friend  Cameron  may  have  had  in  mind  while 
rearing  before  the  public  gaze  this  house  of 
stately  proportions,  he  has  succeeded  pretty 
well  in  keeping  to  himself.  However  unfortu- 
nate and  disappointing  the  termination  of  his 
project  may  seem,  we,  who  have  carefully 
watched  the  workings  of  the  heart  which  has 
dictated  the  directions  in  which  these  expendi- 
tures have  gone,  must  easily  have  discovered 
the  philanthropic  intent  of  Mr.  Cameron,  who 
has  been  to  us  the  greatest  benefactor  our 

190 


Donald  Ban  at  The  Front. 

county  has  ever  known.  Now,  gentlemen,  the 
facts  I  have  the  honor  to  put  before  you  this 
morning  I  hope  will  inspire  within  you  the 
spirit  of  fairness  and  of  charity  toward  a  bro- 
ther. I  am  authorized  to  sell  this  house  to  the 
highest  bidder.  For  the  benefit  of  those  wish- 
ing to  bid  I  will  read  the  following  inventory : 
For  material,  labor,  trucking,  etc.,  expended  in 
Glengarry  for  the  constructing  of  this  house, 
and  which  has  been  paid,  thirty  thousand  dol- 
lars. For  fixtures,  decorating  and  furnishing, 
forty  thousand  dollars.  One-half  of  this 
amount  has  also  been  paid.  You  will  readily 
see,  gentlemen,  that  Cameron  has  a  paid-up 
equity  of  fifty  thousand  dollars  in  this  property, 
and  you  are  easily  secured  on  the  twenty  thou- 
sand dollars  unpaid  amount,  and  we  hope  your 
bidding  will  indicate  that  you  have  this  fact  in 
mind.  Now,  what  is  your  first  bid  ?" 

"Forty  thousand,"  came  in  a  clear  set  voice 
from  the  centre  of  a  group  of  strangers  on  the 
left,  and  a  stillness  settled  upon  the  group  of 
men  surrounding  the  lawyer.  As  soon  as  Don- 
ald Ban  had  allowed  sufficient  time  to  pass  in 
which  to  recover  naturally  from  what  ought  to 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

seem  an  unexpectedly  high  offer,  he  con- 
tinued: "It  is  to  be  presumed,  gentlemen, 
that  a  figure  covering  the  indebtedness  of  the 
individual  firms  which  you  represent  should 
satisfy  your  employers." 

"Fifty  thousand,"  yelled  the  man  with  the 
high  silk  hat  standing  over  in  the  midst  of  an 
excited  group,  and  Perkins  again  drew  up  his 
shoulders  as  at  the  first  bid  and  moved  out  to 
the  edge  of  interested  bidders.  Almost  im- 
mediately another  bid  was  recorded,  a  new 
contestor  with  a  sixty  thousand  offer,  and  Per- 
kins looked  badly  discouraged,  for  he  pulled 
his  side  whiskers  continually.  Then  sixty-five 
and  seventy,  and  seventy-five  thousand  were 
finally  recorded  from  the  same  three  strangers, 
and  the  bidding  seemed  to  be  over.  A  slight 
commotion  in  the  neighborhood  of  Perkins  was 
noticed  by  Donald  Ban,  and  inclining  his  head 
in  his  direction,  the  lawyer  forced  out  his  first 
bid,  making  it  now  seventy-six  thousand.  An 
excited  movement  was  noticeable  throughout 
the  assembled  company.  Donald  Ban  repeated 
the  offer,  and  while  the  crowd  surged  about  the 
money  lender,  Donald  Ban  added  a  few  re- 

192 


Donald  Ban  at  The  Front. 

marks  to  stimulate  the  interest  already  at  the 
snapping  tension. 

"Gentlemen,  to  those  of  us  who  know,  this 
property  is  exceedingly  cheap  at  eighty  thou- 
sand dollars."  Perkins  and  Fraser  had  caught 
at  once  the  trend  of  Donald  Ban's  remarks,  and 
they  feared  the  disclosure  of  the  contents  of 
the  corner  stones.  "Another  unfortunate  hap- 
pening at  this  time  is  the  absence  from  The 
Front  of  the  former  partner  and  friend  of  Mr. 
Cameron,  whose  presence  here  would  be  an  as- 
surance of  this  house  never  passing  under  the 
hammer  for  less  than  a  hundred  thousand." 
Another  thousand  was  added  by  the  man  wear- 
ing the  high  silk  hat.  Seventy-eight  quickly 
followed  from  his  rival  bidder,  and  the  lawyer 
turned  again  to  Perkins. 

At  that  instant  Fraser  had  pushed  quickly 
through  the  crowd  and  whispered  something 
in  the  ear  of  Perkins.  Blakely  had  displayed 
the  signal,  and  coming  across  the  Channel, 
speeding  on  toward  The  Nole,  was  seen  the 
long,  low,  swiftly-going  boat  of  LeClare  mak- 
ing straight  for  the  landing. 

"Eighty  thousand,  gentlemen,  we  must  have. 

193 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

Who  says  the  price,  and  the  house  goes  to 
him!" 

"I  do,"  came  in  a  defiant  voice,  and  Perkins 
pranced  into  the  space  about  the  end  of  the 
veranda  where  stood  Donald  Ban,  and  the 
crowd  fell  back  from  him  in  awe.  "Here's 
your  deposit,  and  I'll  sign  the  bill  of  sale  at 
once.  Now  then,  who  is  there  here  to  oppose 
Nicholas  Perkins  again  at  The  Front?"  He 
turned  with  this  challenge  to  survey  the  crowd, 
and  for  his  answer  he  met  a  chill  of  distrust 
which  struck  at  the  very  vitals  of  life,  for  he 
saw  there,  smilingly  before  him,  standing 
shoulder  to  shoulder,  as  if  greatly  pleased  at 
the  outcome  of  the  sale,  his  tormentors,  Blake- 
ly,  Cameron  and  LeClare. 


194 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 


Cameron's  Task  Completed. 

No  sooner  had  the  lawyers  completed  the  le- 
gal details  for  the  transfer  of  the  House  of 
Cariboo  to  the  purchaser,  Nick  Perkins,  than 
rumors  were  afloat  that  all  was  not  as  it  seemed 
about  Cameron's  having  to  sell  the  mansion  to 
satisfy  his  creditors.  Strange,  if  it  were  so, 
mused  Eraser  the  carpenter,  for  the  day  fol- 
lowing the  sale  he  saw  from  his  wheelwright's 
place  the  strangers  from  the  city  grouped  be- 
fore the  door  of  the  smithy,  around  Bill  Blakely 
and  Laughing  Donald.  The  jesting  and  laugh- 
ter which  he  could  plainly  hear  were  joined  in 
by  Blakely  and  even  Davy  Simpson,  who  left 
his  blazing  forge  to  appear  at  the  door  of  the 
shop  to  witness  the  pleasure  of  his  friends. 

195 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

A  feeling  of  uneasiness  took  possession  of 
the  little  undersized  carpenter,  and  he  drew 
back  from  the  door  and  shuffled  around  among 
the  shavings  upon  the  floor  of  his  workshop. 
Fear  and  apprehension  had  closed  in  around 
him  so  surely  that  there  was  no  chance  of  evad- 
ing the  awful  certainty  of  the  truth  that  Per- 
kins had  been  most  artistically  duped,  and  that 
he  had  been  the  one  through  whom  the  scheme 
was  so  successfully  worked.  Nick  Perkins 
had  acted  entirely  upon  the  information  he  had 
carried  to  him,  and  now  as  he  looked  through 
the  dimmed  window  panes  of  his  workshop  and 
recognized  the  same  men  who  had  so  flippantly 
discussed  the  affairs  of  Cameron  back  from 
The  Front  at  the  station,  the  extent  of  the  hu- 
miliation and  expense  he  had  forced  upon  Per- 
kins, and  the  extreme  satisfaction  he  had 
given  his  enemies,  dawned  unmercifully  upon 
him. 

Again  he  squirmed  in  his  peculiar  sliding 
fashion  around  the  extent  of  his  place.  Stop- 
ping at  the  carpenter's  bench,  he  took  up  his 
plane  and  tried  to  forget  his  predicament  in 
violent  muscular  exertions.  Soon  a  knock  came 

196 


Cameron's  Task  Completed* 

at  the  door.  At  first  he  paid  no  attention  to  it, 
thinking  Bill  Blakely  had  come  over  to  poke 
fun  at  him  in  his  very  provoking  manner. 
Another  knock  followed,  and  the  door  opened 
to  admit  the  short,  officious  personage  of  Per- 
kins. At  sight  of  his  caller,  Fraser  collapsed 
into  a  frightened,  shrinking  heap,  sorrowful  to 
see.  Slamming  to  the  door,  Perkins  glared 
at  the  cringing  object  before  him. 

"A  nice  mess  you  have  made  of  it,  Fraser ! 
It's  a  wonder  you  were  not  in  the  trick  with 
the  rest  of  them,  but  they  wanted  you  where 
you  were  to  do  just  what  you  have  done — to 
ruin  me,  to  put  every  dollar  I  am  worth  in  the 
world  into  that  useless  house,  a  monument  to 
Cameron.  Every  dollar  I  ever  made  in  the 
county  I  have  given  to  Cameron,  and  he  has 
paid  it  back  to  the  same  people  I  got  it  from. 
The  entire  cost  of  that  house  is  not  more  than 
fifty  thousand.  I  have  paid  that  back  to 
Cameron.  He  did  not  owe  a  cent  to  those  peo- 
ple you  said  were  representing  his  creditors  in 
the  city,  and  what  is  more,  I  am  satisfied  now 
that  the  talk  of  the  gold  in  the  corner  stones  is 
a  hoax,  like  all  the  rest  put  up  by  Cameron  to 

197 


The  House  of  Cariboo. 

use  me  in  carrying  out  his  philanthropy,  which 
has  not  cost  him  a  dollar.  Yet  he  has  the  glory, 
while  I  am  ridiculed !" 

Poor  Fraser,  confronted  by  such  a  terrible 
arraignment  of  what  he  knew  to  be  facts,  was 
utterly  confounded.  He  made  no  answer,  but 
a?.  Perkins  turned  in  resentment  and  disgust  to 
go,  Fraser,  in  a  weak,  thin  voice,  like  a  wail  of 
despair,  said:  "I  thought  I  was  doing  you  a 
service,  Mr.  Perkins."  Again  Perkins  turned, 
but  with  a  look  of  dark  hatred  and  disgust  cast 
in  his  direction,  he  went  out,  slamming  the 
door  to  after  him. 

******** 

It  was  possibly  a  week  or  ten  days  later 
when  Cameron  and  LeClare  stood  again  upon 
the  veranda  at  Laughing  Donald's.  Andy's 
Dan  awaited  his  passenger  at  the  boat  landing 
for  the  leave  taking  of  the  two  friends. 

"Lucy  and  I  will  expect  you,  Andy,"  ear- 
nestly pleaded  LeQare.  "With  you  present 
we  shall  want  for  nothing  to  make  our  wed- 
ding a  union  of  complete  happiness." 

Mr.  Cameron  grasped  the  extended  hand  of 
liis  faithful  associate  and  friend,  saying  in  his 

198 


Cameron's  Task  Completed. 

quiet,  determined  way,  "LeClare,  we  have 
faced  disappointment  together,  we  have  en- 
dured hardships  of  a  kind  to  test  the  merits  of 
our  friendship  many  times  before.  Defeat  we 
have  never  acknowledged ;  sorrow  we  have 
borne  together  side  by  side  in  the  valley  of 
death.  Success  and  wealth  are  ours,  and  hap- 
piness, sweetest  happiness,  Edmond,  is  yours. 
Wherever  I  may  be  at  the  call  of  your  wedding 
bells  I  will  go  to  add  one  more  good  wish  for  a 
long  journey  of  life  and  joy  to  you." 

At  another  conference  held  in  the  office  of 
Donald  Ban,  Mr.  Cameron  had  told  of  his  plans 
for  the  future.  Addressing  his  friend  the  law- 
yer, he  had  said :  "My  mission  at  The  Front 
is  finished.  The  death  of  Barbara  has  been 
avenged.  The  hypocrites,  her  tormentors, 
have  been  brought  very  low,  the  weak  are 
much  stronger  in  person,  and  justice  at  last  has 
prevailed.  I  ask  for  no  thanks  or  recognition 
but  from  our  children  in  Arcadia ;  in  the  gene- 
rations to  come  may  they  look  awe-inspired  as 
they  pass  the  strange  mansion,  and  be  mindful 
of  the  moral  which  was  taught  when  we  build- 
ed  the  House  of  Cariboo." 

199 


THEGROWING 


It  was  Sunday  morning  at  the  "Point."  And 
over  across  the  bay  the  last  of  the  phantoms  in 
"Ghost  Hollow"  had  crept  up  the  lampless 
posts  of  the  walk  through  "Spook  Grove,"  and, 
vaulting  in  an  uncanny  way,  reached  cover  in 
the  branches  of  the  birch  trees  that  were 
thickly  clustered  around  the  cottages  lining 
"Spirit  Lane"  west  to  the  bowling  alley.  It 
was  through  "Ghost  Hollow"  that  the  cot- 
tagers living  to  the  westward  passed  while  go- 
ing to  and  returning  from  the  boat  landing  and 
the  hotel  over  at  the  Point. 

At  the  misty  dawn  on  this  Sunday  morning 
the  forlorn  spectres  of  the  spirits  which  fre- 
quented the  small  bay  were  stalking  from  the 
water,  answering  from  the  hidden  abode 

200 


The  Growing  Maskinonge. 

among  the  dark  cottages  of  the  lane  the  home- 
ing  call  of  the  doleful  strains  of  a  "chella."  In 
obedience  to  their  spirit  queen  they  wafted 
wearily  through  the  rushes  and  ferns  upon  the 
bank;  borne  by  the  receding  shades  of  dark- 
ness, they  sought  their  resting  places  under  the 
rafters  and  the  eaves  of  the  gruesome  roof  of 
the  bowling  alley,  which  crouched  along  by  the 
vine-covered  wall  at  the  brow  of  the  hill.  It 
was  then  an  Indian,  from  the  tribe  of  St.  Regis, 
on  the  mainland,  stole  unnoticed  upon  the  scene 
and  beached  his  canoe  upon  the  east  shore  of 
the  bay.  He  looked  about  for  signs  of  the 
awakening  day,  then  stealthily  he  dropped  on 
his  knees,  and  from  beneath  a  covering  in  the 
bow  of  his  "dug-out"  dragged  up  upon  the 
bank  a  forty-pound  maskinonge. 

"Hi !  hi !"  he  cackled  in  the  weird  voice  of 
his  race.  "Hotel  man  like  much  Injun."  Then 
disappearing  to  the  rear  of  the  out  buildings, 
life  to  him  soon  became  brighter  by  visions  of 
"fire  water"  and  a  warm  breakfast — he  had 
sold  the  fish. 

There  was  an  ominous  quiet  hanging  upon 
the  early  sunlight.  The  suppressed  calm  was 

201 


The  Growing  Maskinonge. 

something  greater  than  that  inspired  by  the 
sight  of  a  few  devout  people  starting  out  upon 
the  yacht  for  early  mass.  The  guests  were  ap- 
pearing singly  upon  the  broad  verandas  of  the 
hotel.  Each  in  turn  as  he  appeared  seemed 
possessed  of  the  same  apprehension,  a  nervous- 
ness of  manner.  The  sleep  of  this  Sunday 
morning  was  the  closing  of  a  week  of  wild  and 
reckless  dissipation  among  the  guests.  Such 
intense  excitement  at  the  island  had  not  been 
experienced  in  many  summers.  From  the 
wharf  of  the  castle  across  the  bay  at  the  other 
side  of  "Ghost  Hollow"  the  gramophone  had 
sung  "coon  songs"  and  recited  at  length  for 
several  evenings  in  succession,  and  a  music 
box  in  the  main  corridor  of  the  hotel  had  given 
a  continuous  performance  from  twelve  to 
twelve,  till  the  nerves  of  the  martyred  guests 
had  reached  a  state  fit  to  be  recited  in  a  patent 
medicine  advertisement. 

"What's  that  I  don't  know,  a  big  fish  ?"  And 
Mr.  Hot  Water,  dressed  in  his  new  bicycle  suit, 
strode  excitedly  a  few  steps  forward  on  the 
veranda,  then  backed  up.  balanced  himself  and 
side-stepped  a  little  to  eet  a  fresh  start.  Then 

202 


The  Growing  Maskinonge. 

he  came  on  again,  with  his  meerschaum  pipe 
tightly  grasped  in  his  right  hand. 

"By  Gum!  That's  a  terror.  If  it  isn't  a 
pickerel  it's  a  maskinonge.  It's  either  one, 
anyway,  if  it  isn't  a  maskinonge.  Who  caught 
it?"  Then  he  looked  at  the  three  individuals 
before  him  for  the  first  time.  What  he  saw 
made  him  change  the  meerschaum  quickly  from 
the  right  to  the  left  hand,  and  then  he  blinked 
his  eyes  till  recalled  by  Mr.  Du  Ponte.  When 
Mr.  Hot  Water  (a  regular  patron  of  the  hotel, 
known  to  be  threatened  musically,  and  also  as 
a  local  weather  authority)  comprehended  the 
outfit  before  him  he  saw  a  large  fish,  of  the 
maskinonge  family,  strung  on  an  inch  pole  sus- 
pended between  two  trees  eight  feet  apart.  He 
saw,  also,  three  of  his  fellow  guests  at  the 
Point  strangely  arrayed  before  him,  one 
dressed  in  white  duck  trousers,  with  a  red  silk 
scarf  tightly  knotted  above  the  knee,  another 
with  hand  and  fore-arm  wound  with  linen 
handkerchiefs  and  hung  in  a  sling  across  his 
breast,  while  the  third,  Mr.  Du  Ponte,  was, 
aside  from  his  loquaciousness,  apparently  in  his 
normal  condition,  i.  e.,  he  had  escaped  from  the 

203 


The  Growing  Maskinonge. 

terrible  catastrophe  that  had  overtaken  his 
friends  with  no  severe  injuries  to  his  person. 

Mr.  Hot  Water,  being  somewhat  of  a  "sport" 
himself,  was  led  to  inquire  for  the  particulars 
of  the  landing  of  the  large  fish.  After  step- 
ping cautiously  around  the  group  for  a  few 
minutes,  he  placed  the  meerschaum  between  his 
teeth  again  and  began  to  mutter  questions 
which  showed  him  to  be  in  a  credulous  state  of 
mind.  "By  Gum!  I  don't  know,  by  Gum! 
Now,  I  have  been  here,  and  I've  been  down  to 
my  club  fishin',  fishin' ;  I've  been  down  to  Kit- 
skees  Island,  too.  That's  right.  My  guide — 
my  guide  rowed  me  down  there  and  all  the  way 
back,  too.  I  had  out  a  thousand  feet  of  line,  but  I 
never  caught  anything  like  that."  He  looked 
cunningly  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye  toward 
Mr.  Du  Ponte  and  inquired  again  what  the  fish 
weighed.  Three  other  guests  filled  with  curi- 
osity had  now  joined  the  group,  and  Ponte 
began  to  explain. 

"Fifty-seven  pounds  is  the  weight  of  this 
fish.  He  has  just  been  weighed  in  the  ice- 
house around  there  back  of  the  hotel,  near  the 
landing."  (Thirty-seven  pounds  had  been  the 

204 


The  Growing  Maskinonge. 

original  quotation.)  "You  see,  Mr.  Hot  Wa- 
ter, this  is  no  ordinary  maskinonge.  Take,  for 
instance,  the  back  extension  from  shoulder  to 
shoulder,  which  denotes  a  terrible  propelling 
force,  and  then  if  you  notice  these  spots  (point- 
ing with  a  twig  he  had  cut  for  the  purpose) 
they  are  not  the  marks  of  a  common  fish.  This 
'ere  fish  was  a  leader  of  his  tribe ;  a  king,  so  to 
speak,  among  his  fellows." 

"Perhaps  he's  a  'King  Fish',"  suggested  Mr. 
Hot  Water,  with  apparent  concern,  at  the  same 
time  winking  both  eyes  at  the  "cottager"  with 
the  red  handkerchief  tied  about  the  trousers  at 
the  knee. 

"No,"  returned  Du  Ponte ;  "we  have  looked 
him  up  and  we  find  that  having  those  spots,  and 
the  second  bicuspid  tooth  being  black,  prove 
him  to  be  a  regular  'King  Filipino'  maski- 
nonge." 

"By  Gum !  that's  funny — I  wonder  how  he 
got  here.  Must  have  followed  the  'line  boat' 
up  the  Suez  Canal,  I  guess,  or  p'raps  he  didn't. 
He  must  weigh  more  than  fifty-seven  pounds 
— though  I  don't  know.  I  guess  not,  though 
those  fish  grow,  those  Filipino  fish  grow  very 

205 


The  Growing  Maskinonge. 

fast.  They  say  they  do,  though  I  couldn't  say 
myself.  I  should  think  he  would  weigh  more, 
though,  being  a  king.  Here's  Mr.  Mac,  he 
ought  to  know  a  'King  Filipino,'  he  goes  to 
the  market  every  day,"  continued  Mr.  Hot 
Water.  Again  he  blinked  both  eyes  at  the 
'"cottager"  with  the  red  handkerchief  about  the 
knee,  and  the  laught  didn't  seem  to  be  on  Mr. 
Hot  Water. 

Mr.  Mac  was  another  weekly  visitor  at  the 
Island,  spending  the  half  holiday  about  the 
rush  beds  and  channels  in  quest  of  the  sly 
"Wall  Eye.'  For  many  seasons  he  had  been 
doing  this  sort  of  thing.  The  distinguishing 
mark  of  the  pickerel,  the  pike  and  the  mas- 
kinonge  were  as  familiar  to  him  as  were  the 
quotations  on  the  Exchange,  upon  which  he 
was  an  active  operator  six  days  of  the  week. 
The  responsibility  of  Mac's  habit  of  listening 
courteously  to  what  a  fellow  had  to  say,  for  the 
time  carefully  concealing  his  final  verdict,  dates 
back  for  its  origin  to  the  conservative  atmos- 
phere of  old  Glengarry  County,  where  he  had 
spent  the  days  of  his  boyhood. 

"Good  morning,  gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Mac, 

206 


The  Growing  Maskinonge. 

in  a  slow,  deliberate  voice,  slightly  pitched,  as 
he  reached  the  inner  circle  surrounding  the  fish 
suspended  between  the  two  small  hickory  trees. 
The  peak  of  his  blue  yachting  cap  was  pulled 
well  down  over  his  nose,  which  shielded  from 
the  principals  in  the  "fish  game"  the  twinkle 
in  the  eye  which  would  have  been  the  only  clue 
detectable  upon  his  imperturbable  features  to 
indicate  his  belief,  skeptical  or  otherwise,  con- 
cerning the  proceedings.  "Well,  now,  that  is  a 
pretty  good  morning's  catch,  that  one  fish  is. 
Where  did  you  get  him,  might  I  ask?"  and 
Mac  raised  his  head  slowly  backward  till  his 
eyes  from  under  the  shield  of  his  cap  rested 
on  the  level  of  the  faces  of  the  three  bandaged 
principals  guarding  the  fish.  "Must  have  had 
some  trouble,  too,  in  landing  him,"  and  he  in- 
dicated with  an  inclination  of  the  yachting  cap 
toward  the  red  bandage  around  the  white  duck 
trousers  at  the  knee  of  the  "cottager." 

"Yes,"  quickly  responded  Du  Ponte,  "I 
hooked  him  on  a  small  perch  line  out  there," 
indicating  the  spot  near  shore,  "in  front  of  my 
friend's  cottage,  not  more  than  three  rods  from 
shore.  He  can  tell  you" — nodding  to  the  "cot- 

207 


The  Growing  Maskmonge. 

tager" — "he  saw  me  from  his  gallery,  which  is 
over  the  small  dock  near  where  I  was  fishing, 
throw  the  pole  overboard  and  heard  me  shout 
for  help.  Now,  friend,"  nodding  to  the  man 
with  the  wounded  limb,  "tell  Mr.  Mac  how  we 
got  him  ashore." 

"There  isn't  much  to  say  about  what  we 
did,"  began  the  "cottager,"  "but  it's  what  the 
fish  did  to  us.  Look  at  Ribbon  Gibbon !  His 
hand  lacerated  to  the  wrist;  Du  Ponte,  here, 
with  a  dislocated  shoulder,  while  I  have  a 
jagged  wound  at  the  knee."  Mac  viewed  them 
as  requested,  his  features  at  the  time  screwed 
up  as  though  a  bright  sunlight  were  shining  on 
his  face. 

"I  had  just  finished  dressing,"  the  ''cottager" 
continued,  "and  had  stepped  out  on  the  bal- 
cony to  see  what  the  weather  was  to  be,  before 
I  went  into  the  tower  to  run  up  the  flag.  Then 
it  was  I  saw  Du  Ponte  at  his  regular  trick  of 
fishing  the  perch  bank  dry  before  anybody  else 
was  up  and  stirring.  The  next  instant  T  heard 
a  despairing  yell,  and,  looking  in  the  direction 
from  whence  it  came,  I  saw  Du  Ponte  making 
frantic  efforts  to  raise  the  stone  anchor  to  his 

208 


The  Growing  Maskinonge. 

boat,  and  calling  at  the  same  time  for  help  to 
capture  his  fishing  pole,  which  was  making 
down  stream  in  a  zig-zag  course  at  lightning 
speed.  As  I  watched  the  pole  it  came,  now 
and  then,  to  the  surface.  I  saw  that  its  mys- 
terious kidnapper  was  making  for  the  small 
bay  which  lay  where  you  see,  there,  between 
my  cottage  and  the  hotel  here.  An  idea  seized 
me,  and,  with  swiftness  born  only  of  excite- 
ment, I  sped  down  the  stairs,  out  into  the  road- 
way which  leads  through  'Ghost  Hollow/ 
shouting  as  I  ran  to  Ribbon  Gibbon,  who  had 
just  emerged  from  the  hotel,  to  meet  me  at  the 
bend  of  the  bay  in  'Ghost  Hollow.' 

"'Who's  drowning?'  said  Ribbon. 

"  'Nobody,'  said  I,  all  out  of  breath  with  ex- 
citement; 'Du  Ponte  has  hooked  a  sturgeon, 
and  he  made  off  into  the  bay  here  with  his  pole 
and  line.  Look !'  says  I.  'There  it  goes  again,' 
and  the  bamboo  pole  shot  inward  a  couple  of 
rods  nearer  shore.  Ribbon  saw  the  pole  this 
time,  and  we  set  out  together  to  capture  the 
fish. 

"  'Let's  take  that  boat  lying  over  there  on 
the  other  shore,'  said  he.  and  we  made  a  run 

209 


The  Growing  Maskinonge. 

for  it.  I  jumped  at  once  into  the  boat  in  my 
haste  to  reach  the  runaways,  but  Ribbon 
stopped  to  push  off  from  the  rocks.  I  lost  my 
balance  and  fell  over  the  sharp  end  of  the  oar- 
lock, and  that's  how  I  cut  my  leg.  Before  I 
had  got  righted  up  again  I  heard  a  terrible 
splashing,  and,  looking  over  the  end  of  the 
boat  into  the  bay,  I  saw  Ribbon  with  an  oar 
striking  wildly  at  something  in  the  water,  a 
boat  length  from  shore.  'We've  got  him,  we've 
got  him !'  he  wailed,  hysterically,  but  suddenly 
losing  his  footing  he  fell  full  length  upon  the 
monster  as  he  lay  struggling  to  free  himself 
from  the  maze  of  twisted  fishlines  with  which 
he  found  himself  securely  tied.  Immediately  a 
cry  of  pain  came  from  the  water,  and  Ribbon 
held  up  a  bleeding  hand.  In  his  fall  he  had 
encountered  the  share  teeth  of  the  fish  you  see 
here  before  you  in  full  view." 

At  this  point  in  the  narrative  Ribbon 
groaned,  and,  holding  his  injured  arm  at  the 
elbow,  turned  slowly  away.  "Stunned  by  the 
beating  he  had  received  from  Ribbon  with  the 
oar,"  continued  the  "cottager,"  "and  exhausted 
by  his  efforts  to  free  himself  from  the  coils  of 

210 


The  Growing  Maskinonge. 

the  line,  Mr.  Fish  gave  up  the  struggle,  and 
with  the  aid  of  Ponte,  who  had  now  reached 
the  shore,  we  rolled  him  up  upon  the  beach. 
We  have  weighed  him  over  at  the  ice-house, 
and  he  tips  the  scales  at  exactly  eighty-seven 
pounds  and  one-quarter." 

The  "cottager"  then  limped  to  the  side  of  Du 
Ponte,  Ribbon  Gibbon  edged  up  beside  the 
"cottager,"  then  Mac,  after  placing  his  thumbs 
in  the  sleeve-holes  of  his  vest  and  elevating  his 
head  till  his  eyes  had  a  chance  from  under  the 
peak  of  his  cap,  a  cunning  smile  o'erspreading 
his  face,  spoke  quietly  and  deliberately. 

"Well,  gentlemen,"  said  he,  "it  is  remark- 
able, and  only  that  I  have  the  honor  of  know- 
ing you  three  chaps,  and  know  you  to  be 
absolutely  truthful,  I  might  say  to  you  that 
you  are  the  best  trio  of  liars  I  have  ever  met." 
Then  he  made  a  catlike  grin  at  the  "cottager," 
and,  keeping  his  thumbs  in  the  arm-holes  of  his 
vest,  he  turned  and  sauntered  out  of  the  group. 
The  number  of  people  who  now  stood  gaping 
with  undisguised  wonder  pictured  on  their 
faces  edged  in  closer,  forming  a  compact  circle 
surrounding  the  terrible  monster  of  the  deep, 

211 


The  Growing  Maskmonge. 

and  viewing  the  disabled  subjects  of  his  vicious 
attack. 

Du  Ponte  was  about  to  order  the  fish  re- 
turned to  the  ice-house,  when  he  espied  emerg- 
ing from  the  doorway  of  the  stairs  leading  to 
the  sleeping  apartments  in  the  annex  the  tall, 
graceful  figure  of  Harry  Weiner  Sneitzel. 
"Here  is  a  rare  chance,"  thought  Du  Ponte  to 
himself.  "Why,  boys,"  in  an  undertone,  aside, 
"the  fun  is  only  beginning;  now,  Ribbon,  it's 
your  turn.  Give  it  to  him  good." 

Harry  Weiner  Sneitzel  was  a  general  favor- 
ite at  the  "Point."  He  was  endowed  with  a 
liberal  share  of  good  looks,  a  fine  form,  with 
graceful  movements,  and  possessed  of  a  rare 
interpretation  of  what  a  courteous  manner 
should  be.  His  bearing,  too,  was  further  dig- 
nified by  a  three  years'  course  at  a  medical  col- 
lege. When  Harry  stepped  out  upon  the  gravel 
walk  in  front  of  the  hotel  that  Sunday  morn- 
ing, his  white  canvas  shoes  shining  with  a 
fresh  coat  of  pipe  clay,  and  his  tall,  erect  figure 
swaying  to  his  easy  strides,  he  truly  looked  "a 
winner." 

As  he  turned  toward  the  group  surrounding 

212 


The  Growing  Maskinonge. 

the  suspended  fish  and  saw  his  friends  in  such 
evident  distress,  he  hastened  his  steps  in  their 
direction.  An  expression  of  deep  sympathy 
and  concern  had  o'erspread  his  classic  features, 
and  he  elbowed  himself  quickly  to  the  side  of 
his  companions.  "By  Jove,  old  man,  it's  pretty 
tough  !  Where  have  you  been  ?"  Ribbon  was 
speaking  in  an  accusing  tone,  holding  his  band- 
aged arm  tenderly  to  his  breast.  Harry 
quickly  looked  from  Du  Ponte  to  the  "cot- 
tager" for  an  explanation.  "Well,  it's  pretty 
bad,"  said  Du  Ponte,  "but  Ribbon  needs  you 
the  worst  of  any  of  us ;  his  hand  is  in  a  bad 
shape."  "Oh,  you  don't  tell  me!"  replied 
Harry,  sorrowfully.  "Can  I  do  anything  for 
you?"  he  eagerly  inquired. 

"By  Jove,  old  chap,"  went  on  Ribbon,  with 
apparent  difficulty,  "I  thought  you  had  gone 
away  last  night  on  the  'liner,'  or  I  would  have 
been  after  you  sooner.  I'm  all  done  up.  My 
hand  is  in  a  bad  way.  This  confounded  fish 
has  chewed  me  up.  The  fellows  here  tied  this 
bandage  all  about,  but  it  hurts  like  the  deuce, 
and  I'm  afraid  of  blood  poisoning."  "Better 
do  something  for  him."  muttered  Du  Ponte. 

213 


The  Growing  Maskinonge. 

Harry  was  deeply  impressed  with  the  responsi- 
bility that  was  being  heaped  upon  him.  He 
placed  the  palms  of  his  hands  over  his  hips 
and  drew  up  his  shoulders  till  they  rested 
akimbo,  and  then  he  was  completely  confused 
by  the  suddenness  of  the  call  upon  his  pro- 
fessional skill.  "Quick,  Harry,"  snapped  the 
"cottager,"  "that  hand  needs  to  be  dressed  im- 
mediately, then  afterward  you  can  take  a  look 
at  the  cut  in  my  leg,"  "Say,  old  chap,"  com- 
plained Ribbon,  "mother  will  be  down  here  in 
a  minute ;  then  there  will  be  a  deuced  row  if 
she  sees  this."  And  he  gingerly  handled  the 
bandaged  arm  for  effect.  "But  I  have  no — no 
medicines,"  stammered  Harry,  just  recovering 
his  composure.  "Medicine!"  shouted  Du 
Ponte.  "Don't  need  medicines ;  get  some  cot- 
ton batting,  get  lint,  get  any  old  thing — but 
hustle ;  there'll  be  trouble  here  soon !"  "That's 
right,  Harry,"  spoke  the  "cottager"  assuringly. 
"Find  the  cotton  batting;  then  we'll  get  to 
work."  "Cotton  batting  will  be  good  for  that 
— first  rate  for  a  wound,"  replied  Harry,  sud- 
denly awakening.  "Why.  we  had  some  yester- 
day over  at  your  cottage,  fixing  up  your  rig  for 

214 


The  Growing  Maskmonge. 

the  masquerade.  It's  in  the  extension ;  I  know 
where  to  get  it,"  and  he  bolted  through  the 
crowd  over  the  side  hill  and  down  through 
"Ghost  Hollow,"  up  again  on  the  opposite  rise 
of  ground,  and  fled  through  the  white  birch 
grove,  disappearing  into  the  grounds  of  the 
castle  across  the  bay.  Before  the  arch  con- 
spirators could  hold  a  conference  as  to  their 
further  conduct  of  the  "fish  case,"  which  was 
now  assuming  an  alarming  aspect,  Harry  was 
flying  back  through  "Spirit  Lane,"  his  arms 
flapping  up  and  down,  his  long  legs  dangling, 
in  his  haste  resembling  the  flight  of  a  water 
crane  startled  from  a  reed  bank. 

"Spread  it  out  here,"  suggested  Du  Ponte, 
and  he  guided  Harry  to  the  edge  of  the 
veranda,  where  he  unfolded  the  roll  of  cotton. 
The  "cottager"  had  limped  to  the  veranda  and 
seated  himself.  Ribbon  followed  him  reluct- 
antly. "Go  lightly  now,  old  chap ;  I  am  afraid 
it's  pretty  bad,"  said  Ribbon.  "Better  dampen 
that  cotton  in  witch  hazel  or  Pond's  extract," 
suggested  the  "cottager,"  "for,  if  it's  blood 
poison  you  need  an  antiseptic."  "Excuse  me, 
old  chap,  won't  you,"  interrupted  Ribbon :  "this 
215 


The  Growing  Maskinonge. 

is  quite  serious,  I  fear.  Would  you  mind  get- 
ting that  bottle  of  Pond's  extract  up  on  your 
dresser?  It  would  be  safer  for  you  to  use  it, 
don't  you  know."  "Oh,  of  course,  I  never 
thought  of  that."  And  Harry  was  off  again, 
up  the  stairway  this  time,  four  steps  at  a  bound, 
out  again  on  the  gravel  walk,  the  bottle  of  ex- 
tract clinched  in  his  excited  grasp.  As  Harry 
hurried  to  the  side  of  his  suffering  patient  to 
proceed  with  the  bandaging,  Mr.  Mac  had 
quietly  reached  the  front.  "If  you  will  allow 
me  to  offer  a  suggestion,"  he  began,  in  his 
cautious,  convincing  way,  "my  family  phy- 
sician will  arrive  here  in  half  an  hour  from 
the  city ;  he  will  have  all  the  necessaries,  which 
I  believe  you  require  for  this  job,  and  it  might 
be  safer  all  around  to  postpone  this  operation 
till  he  comes."  "Quite  right,  quite  right,"  Du 
Ponte  replied  at  once.  "Mind  you."  continued 
Mac,  "I  only  wish  to  suggest :  I  am  not  inter- 
fering with  your  case,  Harry."  "Oh,  that's  all 
right,  Mr.  Mac,"  said  Harry :  "the  doctor  prob- 
ably has  antiseptics,  and  that  will  be  very  nec- 
essary in  this  case."  "You  had  better  go  in  to 
your  breakfast.  Harry,"  suggested  Ribbon ;  "I 

216 


The  Growing  Maskmonge. 

can  stand  this  for  half  an  hour,  and  the  other 
doctor  will  need  you  when  he  comes."  Harry, 
still  under  the  mesmeric  spell,  obeying  orders, 
hurried  into  the  hotel  for  breakfast. 

The  principals  fell  back,  again  surrounding 
the  maskinonge,  which  was  now  stiffening  in 
the  sun.  They  were  considering  the  plan  of 
their  escape  from  the  Island  in  whispered  con- 
sultation. In  the  meantime  Harry  Werner 
Sneitzel  had  swallowed  his  first  cup  of  coffee, 
and  began  to  think.  At  the  second  thought  he 
looked  out  of  the  window  toward  the  suspended 
fish,  then  he  sank  back  in  his  chair;  an  ex- 
pression of  fear  and  incredulity  was  forming 
upon  his  countenance. 

"Scamps,"  he  was  heard  to  remark,  as  he 
gazed  for  the  second  time  out  through  the  win- 
dow at  the  group  upon  the  lawn.  Then,  quick- 
ly rising,  he  headed  for  the  office.  Hatless  he 
sprang  out  upon  the  veranda.  Grabbing  up  a 
sabre  which  was  thrown  aside  by  a  mas- 
querader  of  the  night  before,  he  bore  down 
upon  the  three  conspirators  who  had  made  him 
the  victim  of  their  practical  joke.  As  he  leaped 
tn  one  mad  stride  from  the  piazza  to  the  ground 

21? 


The  Growing  Maskinonge. 

his  long,  thin  front  locks  stood  straight  up  in 
the  wind  like  the  scalp  feathers  of  an  Indian. 

"Sneak!"  yelled  Du  Ponte.  In  a  flash  the 
conspirators  were  out  of  the  crowd  which  sur- 
rounded the  fish.  Over  the  side  hill  they 
scampered,  Harry  in  pursuit,  swinging  the 
flashing  sabre  in  the  air.  Down  through  the 
Hollow  they  sped,  and  in  their  flight,  as  did  the 
ghost  spirits  of  the  bay,  they  mysteriously  dis- 
appeared into  the  mazes  of  the  dark  cottages, 
amidst  the  white  birch  grove  in  "Spirit  Lane." 


218 


000100943     0 


